It's Not You They Fear

by Vermilion and Sage

Rating: mature
Tags: Science Fiction, Wonderbolts, Spitfire, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Rainbow Dash, Romance, Thriller, Original Character
Length: 71401

Every professional team needs a good coach, but when Rainbow Dash makes it into the Wonderbolts, she finds that their coach is downright brutal.

-----CURRENTLY UNDERGOING MAJOR EDITS-----

When Rainbow Dash finally accomplishes her life goal of joining the Wonderbolts, she expected a challenge, and did she ever get one. The training is hard, as it should be for the greatest fliers in the world.

Spitfire is the proud Captain of the greatest aerial team in Equestria, if not the whole world. She was there when the decision was made to hire their conditioning coach, and has seen the team grow with his help. But sometimes he just seems like a wacko.

Rated Mature for warfare, explicit war-violence, and warrior language.
Now with original music in chapter seven, and cover music in chapter six.

Written by 'red Sage
Cover Art by Endrome: http://endrome.deviantart.com/

Edit Progress:
Re-edited: Chapter 1-3
Edits Pending: Chapters 3-5, 8-9
Re-Write Pending: Chapter 6-7, 10

Published 2013-02-28 04:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-11-09 22:38:14 UTC

Your Furtive Nature

Giving up. Defeat. Second place. 'I tried'. Those ARE NOT OPTIONS! How could you ever settle for something other than the best? You are now a Wonderbolt! You don't do those things anymore. You don't even know such words exist. From now on they will be replaced with never stop, victory, first place, and 'I did'.

The road to victory is hard. My job is to make your time spent with us even harder than winning, so that winning becomes easy for you. And make no mistake -- you will hurt, you will cry, you will bleed. And that is good, because when you win, all hurt will be moved aside, the tears will be of joy, and the sacrifice will be worth it all. Welcome to the team, and get ready to train like you never have before in your life.

-Speech excerpt from Spitfire, Captain of the Wonderbolts

Spitfire let out an exhausted sigh as the cool air rushed over her body, relieving the staleness of spending all evening in the office. Being team captain was glory, honor, distinction...and a whole lot of paperwork. Filing entry forms and fees, reserving hotel space, dealing with payroll, running the academy, potential recruits, managing advertising deals, and the list just went on. Today’s to-do list had one special item at the bottom: apologize to team fitness coach for physical assault.

Rainbow Dash may have become one of the best mares on her team after only two weeks in training, but that was no good reason to hoof Shadow in the face. He only worked sixty or seventy days out of the year, but a professional aerial trainer would charge tens of thousands bits for a few weeks work, which Shadow did for a lot less. He’d taken the first pay offer she'd made without any haggling. Not only was this saving Spitfire gold, but he flatly refused to take any raises, saying something about how how he was honored to be working with the ‘bolts when Spitfire tried to press a check into his hooves. She shook her head as Cloudsdale passed below.

Against the setting sun, Spitfire was the queen of a sky as yellow and orange as her tired features. If only the admin work would let her get as early of a rest as the sun was taking. She was tired all over from Shadow's workout and tired of thinking thanks to the pile of paperwork.

The top of the moon peered over the horizon to find Spitfire landing next to Shadow on the practice field. He’d probably been waiting a while, but time always seem to disappear when Spitfire sat down to finish signing promotional contracts. He was pacing back and forth, and neglected his useful hoofshake when she landed.

“Good evening, Miss Spitfire.”

“Hey, Shadow, look, I wanted to talk to you about today.”

Shadow’s brow furrowed. “What about it? Your fliers did very well.”

“Well about Rainbow Dash...”

“Yes, she did better than all the rest today. I've never seen a pegasus with her natural talent before. You truly are fortunate to have picked her up for your team.”

“No, Shadow, what I mean to say is that I'm sorry she punched you. Are you alright?”

His frown slid away as he broke into a laugh. “You do realize I did all that on purpose right? If she made anything clear to me, it was that she hates losing a great deal. It may have been cruel of me, but now she will train as hard as she can in order to best me next time. She'll be a great asset to your team in the coming years.”

“You know what, if you’re ok with it, I’m not going to argue with you at all. I still am downright ashamed that one of my mares would ever punch a pony over something like that.”

“A small price to pay. This will help both her and your team in the long run. I'd take a lot more than a bloody nose to see a pony like her reach her full potential. She'll need some follow up work, but that's your job as Captain isn't it? Make sure she keeps training.”

Spitfire nodded. Shadow’s motives made sense, and it meant a lot less paper to push later. After having visited several countries on tour, Spitfire knew well that Equestria had abysmal amounts of red tape over assault cases. This way there would be no legal issues, no apology needed, and she was holding onto her coach.

“So...what did you want to talk about?” voiced Shadow hesitantly.

“Uhm, that was about it actually.”

With a nod, Shadow took off and Spitfire followed, both banking to the east. He must want to talk on the way back to his hotel. The one thing Shadow had consented to Spitfire buying him was lodging in Cloudsdale for when he came to visit. That only happened after a good deal of argument, and he agreed only after she compromised to let him stay in the cheapest place he could find.

“I still can't believe you wanted to stay in that Cloudy Stables place when we could have easily booked you a room at Cloud Nine. My team isn't exactly hurting for bits you know.”

“I didn't come here to sleep. I came here to help your team, and on that note, Double Dare has improved his left turn, but still needs work on the right. Eagle Claw's posture is poor, he needs to keep his tail inside his airflow, and up when hovering. And Sidewinder needs to work on his backward loops. They have to be much tighter.”

“Ok, anything else?”

“You all need to improve at wing pushups, but that never seems to change. Yes even you, Miss Team Captain.”

Spitfire tried to ignore the burning in her wings as she forced on an approving smile and spoke up in her most cheerful voice.

“Well then I guess that's just what we'll do!”

“You haven't changed a bit. So determined, but determination alone just doesn't cut it.”

“Wait, changed since when?”

“Flight school.”

She would have never guessed a few words could have so quickly brought her back to the time they first met.

Spitfire unclenched her teeth and let her lunchbox fall to the ring of clouds that acted as a lunch table. The cloudy field and columns of the school went unheeded as she nosed around in the aluminum box, looking for the columbine sandwich that her parents had promised her. With a meep of delight, she lifted it out, and pulled it free of the plastic sandwich bag. One very un-fillylike bite later and a third of the sandwich was tickling her taste buds, the deep blue petals a mess on the table. With her mouth occupied, Spitfire looked up to survey her classmates.

Around her were thirty or so tables with all colors of pegasus fillies and colts thrumming with the excitement of their first day at flight school. As she looked on, she realized all the other ponies were sitting with their peers, all except her. Well, her and a light green colt with a messy blue mane sitting alone at a table at the edge of the lunch area, frowning over his books. He looks lonely! Spitfire swallowed the mash of bread and savory petals, gathered up her lunch, and trotted over to visit.

“Mermd eef I sirt dowm?” Talking with the handle of her lunchbox in her mouth was difficult, but the colt nodded so Spitfire sat at the table and dropped her lunch box. Up close he looked like even more of a mess. His mane and tail were tangles of knots, and his coat was matted in patches. Under that, his ribs stood out in high relief against his fur, as did the bones in all his legs. Staring back at her were two slate gray eyes, quivering.

“Hi, I'm Spitfire, what is your name?”

“I'm...Shadow.”

Spitfire watched as those eyes darted back and forth between her face and the lunch box. The rest of the table was clear, and there were no saddlebags over by Shadow's chair. He must have forgotten his lunch!

“Hey you want some lunch? I've got lots.”

Shadow's eyes lit up, and he exclaimed softly, “Yes, please.”

Spitfire dug back into her lunch, and began pulling out snacks. Dividing each in half she passed them to Shadow. Daisy chips, a lettuce roll, a small block of hay, and a honey muffin were each gone a scarce few seconds after she slid them across the table. As soon as each food item came within reach of his hooves, he snatched it up and shoved it into his mouth. Spitfire giggled; she'd never seen anypony eat so fast. Shadow gulped down the hay without chewing it and stared at her with obvious longing.

“You're still hungry, aren't you?”

He nodded slowly, eyes darting between the muffin and her sandwich.

“Well here!” Spitfire slid the other half of her snacks over to Shadow with a sweep of a foreleg. While he began to scarf down the rest of the food, she slid around the table to sit next to him. As her rump met the cloud-chair, Shadow jumped and shrank away from her.

“Hey don't be scared, I just wanted somepony to talk to during lunch. Maybe we can be friends?” To ease the tension off, Spitfire took another messy bite out of her sandwich. Petals fell to the table, and she stuck two between her lips lips a duck bill. Shadow's expression softened as the worry and caution faded away, replaced by a smile.

“You really mean it?”

“Yeah!”

“Well then I'd like to be your friend, and thank you so much for lunch!”

Spitfire moved her chair right up next to Shadow; this time he didn't shrink away.

“Yay! We're going to have so much fun at flight school together! So why didn't you have a lunch today?”

“Well, I hrgnk!” Shadow gurgled, eyes bulging and cheeks thrust out as if somepony was choking him. He put his hooves to his neck, brows furrowed, and after taking a breath he tried again. “My parents tolckkkk-k-k-k-k!” He pounded a hoof on the table as he tried to stutter out his answer. Spitfire was about to ask Shadow if he was okay when the bell rang.

“Well I'll see you after classes then?” She asked, hoping he could tell her why he forgot his lunch. It had to be really scary, or really secret.

“Sure!” replied Shadow as they both trotted away from the table.

For the rest of the day Spitfire didn't pay much attention to her teachers, still lost in thought over her new friend and how she would get to talk to him after classes. She'd get to tell him about her house, and family, and pet falcon, and -- the bell rang to end classes for the day and Spitfire hurried to grab her saddlebags. Chaos was consummated in thirty fillies and colts all bouncing over each other in futile attempts to fly while charging for the cubbies their bags waited in. Somehow in the crush she found the pair with gusts of wind embroidered on the sides and an empty lunchbox within.

The main entrance to the flight school was a vast expanse of deep gray clouds, filled with all sorts of pegasi making their way home. Toward the edge of their expanse, Shadow was being led off quickly by a large pegasus in a gray suit.

“Shadow!” cried out Spitfire, but he was too far away to hear. Before she could sprint after him, she was scooped up into the air and landed upside down. The pony that had picked her up was cuddling her with a fierce devotion, and probably embarrassing her in front of whatever classmates were left to see.

“Oh mom!” Spitfire whined in exasperation. After a little tussle and much squirming, she was nearly enveloped in red hair. Blazemane set down Spitfire with a grin.

“So how was your first day? And who were you yelling for?”

“That was my new friend, Shadow, but he's gone now...”

“Oh don't you worry Spitfire, I'm sure you'll see him again tomorrow.”

She wouldn't see Shadow again for nineteen years, a day where everything was going right and she’d forgotten about anything other than her dreams.

Spitfire looked ahead as she rounded the bend for the last time. There, a quarter mile through the fading twilight lay the finish. Ahead and to the right of her by a mere half length Tameless gasped for air as he struggled to stay ahead of Spitfire. Thoughts tried to enter her tired mind: yammerings of aching muscles, empty lungs, and a noisy crowd were all shoved aside. Everything else faded away into a blur save for that finish.

Something broke in the air. With a crackling noise she shot past Tameless. Scarce seconds passed before the finish line passed beneath and she pulled into a high loop above the stadium. The announcer was roaring about how she scored first, but her ears were not taking that in, nor were her eyes registering the other racers below. All she saw was the fire burning along the last straightaway, and the trail of smoke in her wake to where she hovered above it all. That scene lingered bright before her eyes the rest of the night until she found herself in a bar at Cloudsdale.

Somepony pressed a large mug of cider into her hooves, and she had barely enough time to shift it to one ankle before Tameless grabbed her other hoof and held it high in the air. Raising his own mug he called out,

“To our winning mare and new captain of the 'bolts, Spitfire!”

“Hooray!” The collective cheer was carried on not just be her teammates, but everypony else who had crammed into the bar to see their team.

Spitfire took a long draw from her cider, letting the cold and sweet yet ever so slightly bitter taste bring her back to reality. As the rest of the team dissolved into merry-making, Tameless pulled her aside, his eyes bespeaking seriousness.

“You earned this Spitfire...I'm a little sad to let it go, but this is what the team and you deserve. There is a lot more to being captain than just racing, but I'll be there to help you through it. For now though, enjoy yourself tonight and get a lot of rest tomorrow, because you're probably going to be sorer than you've ever been. Oh and...you're used to media attention, but that's about to get a whole lot worse.” With a wink and a friendly smile on his face, the now ex-captain of the Wonderbolts grabbed his drink and strode off to join his comrades.

It was almost too much for her to take in, and staring into the depths of her mug was not making anything clearer. With a shrug, Spitfire followed Tameless, the grin of her face stretched wider than it ever had been before.

“-and I'll fly on, fly on, fly on hiiiiiiiigggggghhhhhhh!”

“Mrmph,” the new captain groaned as she silenced her cell phone. No traces of memory wafted through her mind about setting an alarm the night before. It was an off-day. Then again, she didn’t remember all that much from the night before at all. Blearily she lifted her aching head from the pillows to look at the phone.

On the screen flashed the words 'Call Incoming' next to an unrecognized number with a Canterlot area code. The phone agency that the Wonderbolts used was supposed to prevent this kind of thing. Some unicorn spell or another was used to not only keep their numbers restricted, but calls wouldn't even go through unless whoever was trying to call was on an approved list. And whoever this was clearly wasn't approved...but apparently clever enough to get around the blocking spell. Awww what the hell. She picked up the phone.

“Hello?” Spitfire was expecting some excited fan on the other end of the line, not the calm and plain reply.

“Good afternoon, is this Ms. Spitfire?”

“Uh yeah, who is this? And how did you get my number?”

A sigh followed on the other end of the line. “I don't think you'll remember me, but this is Shadow Wing.”

Spitfire paused, trying to think past the hangover. Dehydration and the haze of sleep left frustrated. “I’m sorry, who? I don’t think we’ve met before. And you didn’t say how you got my number.”

The speaker paused, as if unsure. “Uhhhm...we met on our first day of flight school. You shared your lunch with me. I know that’s probably nothing to go off of.”

Spitfire paused, and then the haze lifted. Shadow...Shadow...ohmycelestia Shadow! The memories were vague, but they were there right next to the niggling curiosity. “Shadow! It's been...years! What happened to you?! You've got to come and tell me everything! When can you visit?”

Shadow sounded surprised at the sudden outburst. “Well, I've got this afternoon free...”

“Great! When can you come up to Cloudsdale?” Lucky for Spitfire, the 'bolts were hosting last night's race, the closest thing to a home game that the bunch of racers ever could have.

“If I leave now, about twenty minutes.”

“Alright, can you be here at...” Spitfire looked at the clock and frowned, it was a quarter til four in the afternoon. “Five for dinner at the Skytrough?” Geez I slept late.

“I can.”

“Wait, do you need directions?”

“I'll find it.”

“Oh, ok, well see you then!”

“Goodbye.” The phone beeped to confirm the end of the call. Spitfire started to wonder about how calm Shadow sounded. Can't judge anypony off of how he sounds on the phone, especially since I haven't heard from him since...eighteen years ago? Something like that. Another glance at the clock was enough motivation for to get up and get ready for dinner.

“Arlgch!” Tameless was right. She was damned sore.

Skytrough wasn't exactly a fancy restaurant, but it wasn't cheap either. It hid somewhere in that thin middle band of ‘nice company and food’ and ‘won’t wreck the weekend budget’. Casual enough for a meeting with a long lost friend? Spitfire was about to find out.

Hangovers were about as good for flying as the drinking that summoned them, and Spitfire was too sore for a proper landing. Her hooves brushed the mane of one of the stallion’s waiting in line. Whoops.

The unassuming building made out of the same cloud as every other structure in the town was very popular with the locals, and there was always a wait. That wait manifested itself with a mix of outrage and awe, the former by the folks who almost got run over. It wasn't every day the common pony saw a Wonderbolt, even if she did knock a few of them over. Still pitching back and forth from her unsteady landing, Spitfire almost fell over but an outstretched hoof set her back upright.

“Oh, thank you!”

“It's no problem.” The same voice from the phone call washed over her. Spitfire looked up to see that the colt she had known as Shadow was gone, replaced with a short, pale-green stallion.

“Shadow!”

“Uhm...errr, hi! Spitfire...” Shadow stammered quietly as he held up a Skytrough pager. “I uhh got here a little early, and reserved us a table, and well, they said it will be about half an hour at the least though.”

“Oh they did, did they? Well thanks, but you didn't need to. They know me here.” Spitfire grabbed Shadow by the fetlock and led him through the front door. Had she looked back, she might have noticed Shadow staring wide eyed at their entwined hooves and trying not to stumble as he cantered after her on three legs.

Once inside, Spitfire trotted up to the the counter and coughed impatiently at the clerk. . On the her neat button down shirt a name-tag proclaimed her to be 'Snowflake'. Weather was all too often the namesake of a pegasus, even moreso than their unique anatomy.

“Ok, your reservations are good for next Monday at seven, thank you and have a good night.” Hanging up the phone, she started writing down the reservation in the ledger and without looking up.

“Hello and welcome to the Skytrough, we're very busy tonight and the wait is nearly an hour. If you want to take a pager, let me know how many you're expecting in your party and we'll seat you as soon as we can.”

Spitfire coughed impatiently.

“I'm sorry, ma'am,” continued the receptionist. “I didn't catch that, could you please say that again?” She scribbled faster, indenting the paper almost to the point of tearing.

Once again Spitfire cleared her throat, and Snowflake spat out her pen and glared.

“Look, you're wasting your time if--Oh! Spitfire! I uhm uh we have an open table for...two?” Spitfire nodded. “Right this way please!”

Spitfire followed Snowflake through several crowded rooms full of boisterous ponies enjoying their dinners. Up a flight of stairs and in a far corner stood an empty table behind a curtain by a window that overlooked the . Snowflake hurriedly dropped a pair of menus tucked under her wing and rushed off with a backward cry. “Somepony will be right with you!”

Spitfire flung herself down in her chair without further ado, and looked over Shadow as he seated himself more sedately. After he sat down, she found herself looking down to meet his gaze. He’s so short for a stallion! I’m actually taller than him.

She would have giggled but his stare was hard, and she was still a little too sore and hung over to laugh so easily. Shying away from his eyes, she looked over the rest of his features. His colors had gotten slightly darker since his childhood, and muscles rippled over his frame. The realization that she was staring chilled Spitfire, and she quickly looked back to up Shadow's eyes, only to find him still doing the same. In an attempt to kill the awkward silence, she reached forward and picked up her menu.

“Any idea what you want, Shadow?” asked Spitfire in a well-practiced casual tone. It was the same one she used on every media-colt that stuck a microphone in front of her face.

At the sound of her voice, Shadow jumped a little in his seat, then lunged forward like a starving dog to seize the menu, opening it wide in front of his face in such a way to hide himself from Spitfire's view.

“Uh...well...I'll eat anything. Do you know what's good here?” Shadow's voice came a little muffled from behind the menu, which was shaking slightly in his hooves.

“Oh yeah, this is my favorite restaurant in town, if not in all of Equestria. Just about everything is good on the menu, but I figure you wanted a suggestion. My favorite is the jalapeno salad, it's got a real nice kick to it. If spicy isn't your thing, than the veggie burger is always a safe choice.”

As she spoke, she tried to glance around his menu, but Shadow was holding it up so that the only thing she could see were his hooves wrapped around the edges. At least he'd stopped shaking if the menu was anything to go by. Before Spitfire could ask Shadow what kind of food he liked, or to set his menu on the table and act like a normal pony, Snowflake rushed back to the table, a glass of water balanced on each forehoof. In one smooth motion she slid the glasses onto the table and drew a notepad and pen. Breathlessly she began.

“What can I get for you Spitfire? Sir?”

“Oh I'll have the usual.” Spitfire replied, hoofing over her menu. “What about you Shadow?”

“Uhh...yeah...I'll have the burger.” Shadow mumbled from behind his menu.

“What will you have to drink, sir?” inquired Snowflake.

“This water is fine.”

“You know I've got your meal covered, you don't have to drink just water.” Ooooook?

“Water is fine for me.”

As Snowflake went to take the menu away from Shadow, she ran into a little trouble. He decided to take his time, and she eventually lost patience and pried it from his hooves. As his cover fell away, Spitfire resumed her stare without much shame, as Shadow was bashfully staring into the table.

His mane and tail were cropped very short, even for a stallion, each such a dark blue that it almost yielded to black. The sickly-green of his coat only served to contrast the darker tones. Underneath the coat muscles rippled, especially near the base of his wings. The green hair wore off at the base of his legs to reveal matte black hooves. Above the left forehoof he wore a bulky digital sports watch, just as out of date as the fraying brown saddlebags on the floor by his chair.

She let herself get a good look at his cutie mark, just long enough to not be rude. It was five narrow white circles concentric to one another, varying in size. Wonder what that's for. Ah well, about time somepony broke the awkward silence.

“So...Shadow...tell me about what happened? I never got to see you after our first day of school.”

Shadow looked up, and Spitfire got another view into his medium gray eyes. He didn't have the look of admiration or loyalty most fans did. What she saw was something somewhere between contempt and uncertainty.

“After I left that day, my family had some...problems. Had to move. I was sent to boarding school.”

“Oh, so what happened after that? What are you doing now?”

“Well, after I went to school I got lucky enough to land a scholarship to Canterlot University to study vocal music. Didn't get good enough grades to land any job offers so I'm working at a posh restaurant in Canterlot.”

“And your cutie mark...?” It was a totally legitimate excuse to stare at him.

“Acoustics. Geometric sound blending.” Shadow stopped to cough into his hoof.

“So you'd be a good sound engineer then. Seems like you're in better shape than most ponies who want to work in that industry.”

“Oh, I just train now and again.”

That was a lie if Spitfire had ever heard one. Shadow was far too well toned for a pony who just trained casually. He looked more like to sort that went every day, bickered about supplements with ponies who ‘didn’t even lift’, and probably had a shrine built of hoof-weights.

At that moment, Snowflake glided over to the table with a tray. A typical looking burger nearly buried in hayfries was set before Shadow as Spitfire beamed over the spicy salad in front of her. In that lull, the waitress added a earthenware mug topped off with frothing malted apples on one side of the table, and a simple plastic glass with water on the other. Declining her plate for just a moment, she instead took a long pull from the mug, savoring the sweet yet crisp brew.

No sooner than she'd set the mug back down on the table did she have to stop herself from choking on her drink. Across the table, Shadow was already half done with his burger, chewing with the determination of a starved, homeless stallion. After she cleared her throat, Spitfire finished laughing and vomited out the fire thing that came to mind.

“Did you not get anything to eat this week?”

Shadow looked up, confusion plastered on his features.

“This is how I always eat.” The response was matter-of-fact, akin to the tone of voice one would use to describe the weather.

“Are you afraid your meal is going to get up and run away on you?” Her giggles hadn’t quite stopped, but at least she could sit up all the way now.

“No. The sooner I am done eating, the sooner I can go do something else.”

As soon as the last word left his mouth, he resumed shoveling food into it. Spitfire stared for the scarce seconds it took him to to consume the rest of his sandwich. Once he paused for some water she took the chance to speak again.

“Well, you aren't going anywhere right after dinner right?”

“...no, why?”

“Well first I'd like to take the time to finish my meal.” Spitfire paused to take a mouthful of peppers. She chewed thoughtfully, savoring the burn as she talked herself into making her next statement. It was a gamble, but one didn’t win by always taking the safest route. “And then, since you're free, I was hoping you'd join me on a trip down to the Academy.”

“Academy?”

If somepony else was in the room at that second, he or she would have been at a loss as to which party looked more confused, but would have eventually chosen Spitfire. How could anypony not know about her beloved Academy? It was the place that every pegasus colt and filly longed to find themselves at one day. There lay the true embodiment of what it meant to be a pegasus -- to fly.

“The Wonderbolts Academy? Sound vaguely familiar?” The words dangled in the air, a lifeline for the idiot who didn’t realize what the wings on his back meant.

“I think I've heard of it before. That's where you test your potential recruits, right?” Shadow absently wiped some grease from the corner of her mouth.

“Well,” returned Spitfire, still suppressing anger at the unintentional insult, “I'd like to see you run a course there.”

Shadow upended the plate over his face, dumping in the rest of the hayfries. He looked back across the table and chewed and swallowed the mass of fried grass as if he were inhaling the mass of starch.

“Sure.”

“Do I really have to wear these?”

Shadow shifted uncomfortably in a Wonderbolts trainee uniform, flight goggles resting on his forehead. It was thin and tight-fitting, marked brightly to identify recruits in both stormy skies and the clear blue. Laid out before him over the cliff's edge a mass of whirlwinds, cloud rings, and storm clouds shuddering with electric potential waited. Spitfire had set it all up in a hurry while one of the current trainees fetched a spare uniform for Shadow.

“Yes, it's regulation. While practicing on our grounds, you wear a team uniform.”

Spitfire was almost at a loss -- he just seemed plain clueless! A typical recruit would have been giddy at putting on the uniform, and intimidated to the point of shaking at the course. Shadow was clearly annoyed at the former, and if the attitude was anything to go by, hadn't even noticed the latter. Not that he was a recruit...yet. It was looking less and less likely by the minute.

“Alright,” instructed Spitfire. “When I say 'go', you'll dive down to that first set of rings at your eleven o'clock...” As she explained the course in its complexity to Shadow, he listened patiently. “...You go into a counter-clockwise spiral climb through the thunderheads at the far end there, and last you pull a backwards arc to land back where you started. I know that's a lot, so do you have any questions?”

“Just one. Why couldn't we have done this before we ate?” Shadow asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Because we don't just invite anypony to try this, and I couldn't decide if I wanted you to try it before meeting you again. I would have you wait an hour, but in just a bit here, this area will be in use for practice. So it's now, or I might be able to find you a time later.” Oh please just go now.

“Very well,” sighed Shadow as he put the goggles over his eyes. When Spitfire blew her whistle, he sprinted forward and dove over the edge.

Spitfire reached the edge just in time to see Shadow pull out of a steep dive and streak through the first circle of cloud rings, pulling into a tight turn. Faster and faster he climbed, wings tearing at the air like razors, shoving it behind and reaching hungrily for more.

Pale green and dark blue paired with light blue and yellow looked just plain ugly when mixed into a high speed blur, but there was nothing ugly to Spitfire about the aerial feats she was witnessing. She went back at forth from intently studying his performance to noting the time on her stopwatch. That focus was sharply interrupted when Tameless came up from behind so suddenly that she jumped.

“Getting an early start on your new job? I like it. And it looks like whoever that is...is doing well. Where did you find him?”

“At dinner...” Spitfire replied dumbly.

In front of them, Shadow climbed into the final part of the course, dodging lightning strikes as he rose. Finally round to face them he rose above the last of the obstacles. The final cloud dissolved in his wake as he pulled out of the spin and sped back to land in front of the two Wonderbolts, panting hard. Spitfire stopped her watch, and Tameless craned his neck to read it over her shoulder.

1:2773

“Are you seriously telling me that-”

“Hlrrrghk!”

Tameless's question was cut short by Shadow vomiting his meal over the edge of the cliff. The mess of burger, hayfries, and stomach acid really caught the wind and spread as it fell. Had it been any other time and place, Spitfire might have considering making a joke about how he was green in the face.

“Ok,” continued Tameless, still watching the spectacle of flying puke, “You're telling me that this is his first time? And that was his course time on a full stomach?”

Spitfire nodded slowly, shaking away the implications. She had been the one holding the watch two years ago when Tameless set the all-time Wonderbolt record for the course; one minute, seventeen seconds, and thirty-three hundredths. That was after years of being a 'bolt and enough practice runs to perfectly memorize the obstacles. Shadow was only slower by ten seconds and some change. The graduation requirement for cadets was a minute and a forty seconds.

“Well unless you have any objections, Ms. Captain, we should certainly take him onto the team.” Tameless stared over at where Shadow was wiping his face with a foreleg, and then wiping the foreleg on the grass. Spitfire realized he was still nodding her head, and shook it vigorously, making the feeling retreat.

“No, I have none.”

“Then it's settled.”

When Shadow had finished wiping his leg clean he stood up shakily, and staggered back over to where Tameless and Spitfire stood.

“Well...that was awful! If the Wonderbolts all fly like that, then you are truly the best there is. Thanks for letting me see what you do here, but I'll be going now.”

“Hold on a minute young stallion, what's your name?” Tameless spoke with every ounce of authority Spitfire had ever seen him employ. It was the classic voice that came out whenever somepony made when conferring an offer to a lesser being.

“My name is Shadow Wing.” Shadow offered a hoofshake, which Tameless took enthusiastically.

“Well then, Shadow Wing, I believe my captain over here has something she'd like to ask you.”

Spitfire swallowed and began. “Shadow, how would you like to join the Wonderbolts?”

At that last word, Shadow's eyes grew wide for a moment, and then darkened just as quickly.

“No thank you.”

Spitfire recoiled, as did Tameless. Nopony ever said 'no' to the Wonderbolts. Who would be crazy enough to turn down a job that came with a lifetime of fame and a multi-million bit salary? The proper answer was ‘no one, ever.’

“Son, I don't think I heard you right. I believe she just offered you a position on her team.” Sternness tempered Tameless’s command.

“No.” Shadow put on his saddlebags and stood up as if to take off.

Tameless’s brow furrowed. “You’re an idiot, boy. You wait here now, and don’t go anywhere ‘til I say so.”

Shadow nodded, and as he did he began to retch again. Before he made a mess in front of them, Tameless trotted off with Spitfire in tow. When they were far enough away that the smell wasn’t bothersome and Shadow couldn't hear them, Tameless stopped and began to talk fast.

“Look, we can't lose this guy, so this is what we'll do...”

As Tameless laid out his plans, Spitfire watched Shadow go through a few dry heaves, then get a water bottle out of his saddlebags. She shivered a little, realizing the suck she’d put him through for the sake of idle curiosity.

“...and I don't think he can refuse. Alright, lets do this Spits'.”

Spitfire realized she'd been watching Shadow a little too intently to really get the details of what Tameless said, but judging by the look in his eye, he was going to do the talking for her. They returned to find Shadow sitting at the edge, looking off into the clouds. The wind was blowing toward them, causing what little mane he had to wave like he was in flight.

“Mr. Shadow Wing?” Tameless was really laying on every bit of formal he had. “Would you be interested in a coaching position for our team?”

The course had already returned to its shape, shrugging off the damage from its beating. Shadow stared off into that cloudspace. “I'm already occupied. I wish I could help, but that just isn't possible for me.” Unperturbed, the smaller pegasus went back to washing out his mouth.

“Yeah? Well I'm calling bullshit on that. I don't care if you're a waiter at Celestia's palace, or have an offer to become an earl. I want you to be the physical fitness trainer for the 'bolts! You'll only have to show up for the conditioning days, it's my job to teach the team the fancy acrobatics. This will pay more than any other job you could possibly find. My team has enough bits to buy your soul out of servitude to the Queen of Tartarus should that be your obligation, so there is nothing that could possibly hold you back. What do you say?”

Pure vehemence filled Shadow's eyes. He stood up and marched over to Tameless, put his face up close to the other stallion's, and began to whisper in his ear. Spitfire watched in frustration. That little prick!

As Shadow continued to whisper, Tameless's eyes grew wide, and his jaw slowly lowered. Some while later, Shadow stopped, and left Tameless there to blink. It didn’t look natural: nature had not intended for the shorter pony to stare up and threaten the taller one.

“Well...look. Even if you're not just fucking with me, I'd still like to find way to work around your...” Tameless paused for a moment as he tried to find the right word. “...schedule? It would work better anyways, because conditioning days are only once or twice a week, and I guess if you couldn't be at every one, one of us can run it. We'd still pay you handsomely for the ones you could show up for.”

A long moment passed between the two before Shadow cleared his throat and answered. “I guess that will work. I'll start whenever you like. Give me a call, Spitfire has my number.”

The ex-captain and the new coach shared another hoofshake before the latter threw his water bottle back in his saddlebags and made a shaky take-off into the blue. Once he was out of sight, Spitfire took a deep breath, and tried not to yell.

“Tameless, what the hell just happened?!”

“Well...we got him. That's what matters. I'm sure in time we can convince him to sign onto the team.”

“You know what I meant. What did he say?”

Tameless sighed and after kicking the grass with a hoof looked at her almost sadly.

“Spits'...if you trust me, just let it go.”

“...what did he tell you?”

“It's what he didn't tell me that matters. He’s got another job, and he doesn’t want to talk about it. Look, can you trust me enough to let it be?”

Spitfire burned with anger inside at being kept out of the know, but swallowed enough pride to answer. “I trust you Tameless.”

“Ms. Spitfire, are you alright?”

Shadow's voice jolted her back to the present, just in time to avoid flying into the path of a cumulus that the night weather teams hadn't gotten to yet. That's odd, the skies should be clear by now. Looking around, Spitfire found that the town skies were clear, but they were on the outskirts of town, heading out.

“Uh, Shadow, your hotel is back over there a ways.” Spitfire pointed a hoof over toward the nearest quarter of town.

“So it is.” He flew on, gazing off towards the dim horizon.

“Then where the hay are you going?”

Shadow landed on one of the stray clouds and turned to face Spitfire. She watched his eyes and mouth with every word, trying to puzzle out the intent behind them. He wasn’t giving her much to work with. “I've been called in to work. I'm sorry, but I can't stay for all three days we’d originally planned.”

Sighing, Spitfire considered her options. “Alright, we'll make it work out. I’ll run the conditioning tomorrow, and we’ll pay you four hundred crowns instead of six.” She paused before pointlessly trying one more time. “So, did you ever give any more thought to joining the team?”

For the first time in months she watched his visage soften. It was wistful, and just a little bit sad. “Perhaps when you stop paying me I might, though one day...I wish I could.” Forgoing a further farewell, he winged his way into the night.

On the way back to her apartment, Spitfire found herself pondering yet again over Shadow. Ever since he’d been hired, he'd call the evening before he was able to make it to a practice. The next day he'd be there early for conditioning, or 'horse-shoe camp' as the team called it. He'd stay one day sometimes, and sometimes as long as half a week, and when he left, everypony was sore. Sore, just like Spitfire was now.

The night made it difficult to dwell on the scenery, and so her thoughts drifted toward her aching body. Her forelegs hurt, her hindlegs ached, and her back felt like a giant weight she just couldn't shrug off. Seems that Shadow had earned his pay. Two thousand bits a day, working six to eight days a month was a far cry from what a full time coach would earn, but it seemed to be enough for him. And honestly, it was more than enough for anypony to get by on.

When Shadow had taken his new job, Spitfire didn't let go of her curiosity. She had tried to figure him out. She had found his old employer, an aging mare by the name of Shiny Platter. She was the owner of the Golden Sunset, a fine dining establishment in upper Canterlot. When asked, Shiny told Spitfire:

“Shadow? Oh yes, that colt. Haven’t seen him for a while now.”

“Did he ever do anything unusual? Any strange habits?” She’d tried not to play junior detective, but the old mare hadn’t minded one way or another.

“Not really, unless you count being quiet most of the time. Now that you mention it though, sometimes he left very suddenly during his shifts, but he always found somepony to cover for him. And he took only one vacation day in a year and a half.”

“Can you tell me the next time he's working?”

“I'm afraid not young mare, he quit almost a month ago. Said something about finding another job as a coach or something like that. Sorry to see him go, but it’s always easy to find a new waiter.”

That was all that Shiny was able to tell her. Three months after that though, income taxes on Equestrian citizens were due. The finished forms were publicly available, so after the rush was over she'd requested Shadow's.

His income for the year was listed at almost a hundred and twenty thousand bits, barely enough to live on in a place as expensive as Canterlot. His only current occupation was listed as 'athletic trainer'. She'd reasoned that whatever else he did wasn't taxable. Fears of the marefia had been the first thing that came to mind, but were dismissed quickly. Shadow just didn't seem the type.

A sigh escaped her into the dark as she landed on her doorstep. Nearly a year later and she was no closer to figuring out anything about Shadow than when she started. She didn't feel like wasting any more time tonight thinking on it either. Her mind and body sought rest. Guess I'll make tomorrow an easy day on the team.

The morning air was clear and cool, a perfect day for flying. A perfect day to slack off and not fly much at all. Just perfect. Before the watchful eyes of their captain, the Wonderbolts stretched tight wings and cramped backs. After giving them a little longer than usual to loosen up, she decided to give her announcement.

“Alright everypony, our fitness coach had to leave a day early, so I'll be running the workout today.”

“WHAT!?” screamed Rainbow Dash from near the back. Her outburst earned several annoyed glares and more than a few growls.

“...and so today's practice will be short and light,” Spitfire continued, exasperated at the outburst, earning cheers from the assorted athletes. “One hundred laps for everypony on the team, then you can go home.”

The team look off, Spitfire in the lead. While her wings were beating and heart was pounding, all thought was stuck on discipline. I'm going to have to have a serious talk with Dash about her attitude issues. She should have gotten this all out of her system in the Academy.

After a few short minutes the team was done and grabbing for their bags, eagerly discussing how to spend a whole Saturday. Spitfire put a heavy hoof down on Rainbow Dash's shoulder before she could join them.

“Better come with me kid, I think we need to discuss some things.”

“Yeah, I kind of need to talk to you too.”

Of all the reactions Spitfire had expected, acceptance was near the bottom of the list. With a shake of the head to indicate direction, she took off with Dash close behind. Once they were a ways into the sky, far enough away to not be overheard, Spitfire began.

“Alright Dash, it's clear to me that you have some issues with the coach. Since it seems just as clear that you can't keep those to yourself, let’s get them out of the way now.”

“Well actually I meant to apologize to him today, but he’s gone.” Dash said, turning her head away. “I hate that he beat me in front of everypony, but that was no reason to lose it and hit him. I'm sorry for embarrassing you, ma'am, and if I could ask a favor?”

Spitfire nodded, face carefully blank as she tried to conceal her approval from the rookie.

“Can you let me know when he'll be back? Or do you have his phone number or something? I'd just like to talk with him for a bit.”

“Well...” Spitfire paused as she thought it over. “His schedule isn't regular or planned, but he comes by once every few weeks. He doesn't like calls much, but he always calls me before he shows up. How about this? The next time he calls, you'll be the first to know after me.”

“Thank you, ma'am!”

“Don't mention it kid.” Spitfire turned to go but stopped to yell back at Dash's retreating form. “And do try to win the next time you race him!”

Author's Note

Phew. Being my own proofreader is a good look at how stupid I can be sometimes.
->And being corrected by my buddy Dizziestbeef from FOBEQ can REALLY rub it in.
->And further typo fixes by Spangle just make me feel like a loser at the English language...

I use italics to designate thoughts and emphasis on words, but have to manually re-insert them. Sorry if I missed any.

It's kind of funny that each of these chapters so far is longer than anything I've ever had to do for an essay.

Lastly, while Shadow Wing is an OC of mine, he is not supposed to be me. I could never be an introvert *shudders*

Re-edited on 5/17/15

Your Bloody Hooves

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.

The Killer Within

The Wonderbolts are not just acrobats and speedsters. We can be called on to aid in times of hardship and disaster if the need arises, but we never kill the monsters we encounter, only hold them down until the Guard arrives. We never cross that line.

-Spitfire

On a private field high in Cloudsdale under the late morning sun, a cluster of pegasi were sitting and lounging around a small laptop. Far from enjoying themselves, shades of surprise and concern lined their faces. One of the older stallions in the group looked positively terrified, as did the yellow and orange mare with her forehoof on the keys.

Their view of the happenings far away was shifted as the pegasus on the other end of the connection put his helmet back on. When he spoke, he sounded disappointed, like a father explaining to his filly that she shouldn’t have had ice cream before dinner.

“Spitfire…and the rest of you I hear on the other end, I don’t have the time or mental energy to deal with the ramifications of what you’ve done right now. So here is what you’re going to do. You’re going to cut that connection the moment I am done talking. Assuming we make it out of here, I’ll see if I can’t get you all pardoned for being illegally on this comm channel. Do you understand?”

“I do.” Spitfire answered, her voice quavering.

“Good. Now shut it off.”

Spitfire let go of the computer, and Twitch leaned over and started tapping the keys. When she was done, the two way communications were shut off, but the computer was still linked into Shadow’s video feed.

“Twitch, what are you doing?”

“Well, we can’t get in any more trouble right? After all, we did just get busted. I want to see what happens next. You’re all free to leave if you don’t want to. Oh and, I also password locked the options on the sound and video input, so nopony can screw with it if I don’t let them.”

Nopony moved, and Twitch giggled.

“I guess you all want to see what’s going on too.”

“Your hacking got us into this trouble in the first place.”

“Right you are, but you gave me your approval, and you were the one that got us caught. Moreover, everypony here gave their agreement by staying. Either way, there is nothing we can do about it now.”

“I guess you’re right, I’m sorry, Twitch.”

“No problem, Spits!” replied Twitch brightly. “Now let’s see how this show ends.”

Returning their attention to Shadow and Crash, they saw the two had not moved save for holding up their rifles, ready to fire. They were both sitting back on their haunches, taking careful aim out the window. Shadow’s helmet visor was off, and he has his eye pressed up to the scope.

“What are they waiting for?” asked Twitch.

“I don’t kn-“

“Fire.” Shadow ordered, calm and cold. The sheer volume of noise that rang out from the speakers was so large that Twitch had to get up and turn them down.

BOOMskowskowskowskowskowskowskowBOOMskowskowskowskowskowBOOMskowskowskowskowskowskowskowskowskowskowBOOMskowskowskowskowskowskowBOOMskowskow…BOOM.

Right as Twitch finished turning down the sound, Crash dropped his magazine to load another, and took off sprinting toward the door. As he ran, his gear shifted from the even black to match its surroundings. Shadow took half a moment to fire one more round, and then dropped his entire gun to the ground in order to scoop Chaff’s shotgun up before taking off after Crash.

Within seconds both of the pegasi had left the cabin and were nestled in the shadow of a large tree about twenty lengths from the cabin. The shade alone would have hidden them well, but with their camouflage they were practically invisible. Now, the slightest motion disturbed the stillness as Shadow slowly turned his shotgun to point toward the crater, while Crash gently pulled the tube off his back, taking careful aim at the cabin door as they waited.

That wait was not long, for less than a minute later, a chorus of flapping noises announced the arrival of a mass of flying creatures. Spitfire didn’t have time to count all of them but there had to be at least thirty griffons in the air, all wearing the golden capes of Rex Augilares. They were sporting a motley mix of rifles, pistols, knives, and one was even carrying a sabre. They stopped to hover over the scene, and the one carrying the sword started yelling out what Spitfire guessed were orders in a series of screeches and roars. Once he finished, half of the flock broke off toward the crater left by the shock-boom, while their leader took the other half toward the cabin.

The griffons landed and started to look around, pointing their weapons cautiously around the clearing. Neither of the ponies moved save for slight corrections to their aim. The closest one by the crater was ten lengths away, and Shadow was staring right at him through the peep and post of the sights. Over by the cabin, most of the griffons, including their leader had already gone inside, and were squawking in what sounded like surprise and anger.

“Go.” Shadow whispered, and to Spitfire, everything once again seemed to speed up too fast to follow.

As soon as the word left his lips, Shadow flexed his foreleg and shot the first griffon, the buckshot quietly tearing it pieces. At the same time, Crash fired his launcher, and the rocket streaked through the front door of the cabin. Shadow buried his face into the ground right before it detonated, and covered his head with a foreleg. A split-second later, the screen went pure white, and a sound halfway between buzzing and hissing sounded softly, much like a unicorn flash-boiling a pot of water. After two long seconds the sound faded away, and the gamma on the computer slowly returned to normal.

When Shadow looked back up, the cabin was in shambles. The roof was gone, as well as much of the walls. What little remained was completely blackened, as if carbonized, and on fire. Even the few griffons that had not made it inside had been killed by the blast, blackened and charred to a crisp.

After that split second’s observation of the cabin, Shadow turned his attention back toward the crater. About half of the griffons there had been blinded by the flash of light accompanying the explosion and were covering their eyes, cawing in agony. Those who were not completely incapacitated by the blast were standing still, stunned into inaction by the suddenness of it all. They were given no time to recover.

Yelling savagely, Crash and Shadow rose up in unison and let loose with everything they had. Bullets and buckshot tore into the griffons with savage fury and staccato noise. Shadow was firing as fast as the shotgun’s mechanism would go. Being so close to an explosion followed by being fired upon was too much for the griffons, and instead of standing their ground and returning fire, they fled into the trees, diving behind whatever cover they could find. They were not so swift as to avoid losing half their number to the brutal assault.

Right as the last of the fleeing griffons found cover, Crash’s rifle ran empty, Shadow having spent the last of his shells a moment before. He cast aside the empty weapon and drew his pistol out of its leg holster, and started trotting toward the crater on three hooves. Behind him, Crash dropped his magazine, and loaded another before following. To Spitfire’s utter confusion, they both faded back into existence, stark black against the browns and greens of the forest. Why would they give up their advantage? Together they advanced through the crater and toward the trees on the other side.

The sudden change in volume was almost deafening. While before there was screaming and gunfire, chaos and bloodshed, now there was only the whisper of hoof-falls as the pegasi tip-hoofed their way forward. Shadow got to the close side of the nearest tree, and after pausing for a moment, swung his forelegs and torso around to the other side.

The other side of the tree was clear and innocent, and Shadow let out a tense breath. Looking to his right, Crash had just made his way around a tall pine, and found something waiting. The griffon must not have even had time to get it’s weapon up, as the only sounds were of Crash’s rifle and a shrill scream from behind the tree. Crash poked his head out and then waved Shadow forward with a few shrugs of his foreleg.

Nodding to Crash, Shadow moved completely to the other side of the trunk, and pressed forward again. Immediately ahead was a fallen tree, branches still on. It seemed to have been severed low on the trunk by some kind of blast. Rather than take the time to go around, Shadow quickened his pace to a fast trot, then snapped his wings open and glided over the top of it.

Nestled low among the branches on the far side was a shaking griffon, clutching his rifle tightly. When he saw Shadow looming over him, he desperately tried to raise the barrel to save himself, but was too slow. Shadow put three rounds into the creature, and watched it cough and drop its gun. One more carefully placed shot to the head and it fell limp.

That noise was enough to startle another griffon, who popped out from behind the closest tree and leveled her rifle at Shadow. The earth came up to greet him, as he hurled himself down to avoid the oncoming fire. Thunder rang out as the griffon sprayed bullets over his head, and Shadow hit the ground hard. Whipping up his pistol, he emptied the rest of the magazine toward the bird. His aim wasn’t quite good enough, as first one, then three, then five bullets missed. Spitfire’s breath caught in her throat as time seemed to slow and the griffin began to rotate her rifle down to point at Shadow.

In that moment as the pegasus squeezed the trigger one more time, the slide suddenly locked back. In that same moment the griffon dropped her rifle and reached up to clutch the base of her neck, blood dripping through her talons as she made a guttural choking noise.

Right as Shadow slapped a hoof against the magazine release, two more griffons showed their faces from the foliage, one from behind a bush, the other clinging to a tree trunk three lengths above the ground. The one behind the bush took the time to roar like a lion in challenge to Shadow, while the other began firing wildly with the one claw it was holding it’s weapon in.

For lack of any other options, Shadow dove for the nearest cover, which was the tree about ten lengths to his front with the griffon he’d just shot. Mid-leap, he yelled in pain as one of the bullets found its mark. Lacking all grace and control, Shadow rammed headlong into the tree and lay stunned for a moment. Crash began to yell at him as he lay still.

With a shudder he recovered and pressed himself down into the pine needle bed, ensuring that the hail of projectiles would not fall on him. Momentarily safe, he looked over at the griffon, who had picked her gun back up. He bashed her claw with a forehoof, knocking it out, and then whipped his empty pistol across her beak. She fell backwards, coughing through the blood in her windpipe, unable to get back up.

No longer worried about imminent harm, Shadow looked back at his hindleg. The right one had a short gash across where the bullet had grazed it, cutting open his suit and skin. It was bleeding noticeably, and Shadow winced at the sight. The sound of Crash’s rifle, higher pitched and faster than that ones the griffons were carrying sounded briefly, and the bullets landing around Shadow ceased. In the reprieve, he reached onto his belt for a magazine which he promptly shoved into his pistol. After chambering a round, he poked his head around the tree.

The griffon formerly on the tree was now on the ground, flat on its back and still. Over behind the bush, the second griffon was reloading its rifle, and had just put a talon on the charging handle of the weapon when Crash shot it too. The creature collapsed to the ground, writhing noisily in the brush. Taking careful aim, Shadow put a round between its eyes, stopping the convulsions.

“You ok there, Hunter?” asked Crash quietly over the radio. He hadn’t budged, and was still holding up his rifle and looking ahead into the trees. Shadow turned away from Crash and did the same before answering.

“Yeah, got hit but I’ll be fine. If I counted right, there were three left?”

“Give or take one, but that sounds about right. Let’s end this.”

“Right.” Shadow took a deep breath, and then waved a fetlock toward a particularly thick grove ahead where the last of the griffons had vanished into. It was ringed with oak scrub, and the ground was littered with pine needles. “Let’s take this slow, I don’t want them to hear us.”

“Got it.”

The two guards advanced slowly on the thicket, spread apart perhaps ten lengths. It was hard to Spitfire to tell when Shadow was staring forward. They moved carefully, placing each step where it would crush the least dead plant material underhoof. Twenty lengths away, then ten, then Shadow was up against the edge of the scrub oak. He gingerly made his way through, waving limbs around what branches he could, and gently pushing out the way the ones he couldn’t. After another minute, they were both on the inside of the thicket, crouched and waiting until Shadow raised his unarmed forehoof.

He waved it forward once, then twice, and on the third time both ponies bolted toward the nearest piece of cover. The sudden crunch of their hooves on the pine needles and the flaps of their wings pushing them faster echoed through the trees as Shadow rounded the first trunk. There was nothing lurking behind it, but a burst of gunfire followed by a sudden screech announced that Crash had more luck in his search. Chancing a quick glance over, Shadow saw a griffon falling to the ground clutching his chest, a cluster of a half-dozen holes in it’s plumage bleeding out as he flopped and screamed. Crash was already bounding ahead. Trying to keep up, Shadow sprinted toward the next tree. He rounded the cover, pistol raised, only to be tackled before he could shoot.

The weapon fell from his grip and Shadow was dragged into the air by the larger creature. Not just bigger than Shadow, the black feathered carnivore was bigger than most of its kind. In that moment, gunfire erupted below from several sources, causing Crash to swear colorfully.

The griffon held Shadow in a crushing grip as they drew higher into the sky. Spitfire recognized what was going on with a shout. Griffons of Rex Augilares had a favorite method of killing ‘lesser beings’, namely taking them up into the air and dropping them to their deaths. If the victim was a pegasus, he or she would have his or her wings broken before being dropped.

As if reading Spitfire’s thoughts, the griffon grabbed at one of Shadow’s wings. The claw never reached its target, as Shadow jerked his neck over and bit down on the knobbly limb. Squawking in pain, the griffon drew back, blood gushing from it’s leg and dripping from Shadow’s teeth.

That opening gave Shadow the the freedom of motion to reach down with his left foreleg to wrap his fetlock around the grip of his knife and tear it loose from its sheath. With a brutal yell he plunged it deep into the feathered neck of his foe. Upon being impaled, the griffon let out a gurgle and stopped flapping its wings. Gravity began to overtake the upward motion of the combatants, but Shadow ignored this and wrenched the knife back out. For just a moment Spitfire could see that it was coated in crimson, before the pressure from the inside of the wound caused some of it to splash onto Shadow’s face. She almost became sick as the screen became a hazy red, as if she were looking into Shadow’s world through a candy wrapper.

Not content, Shadow stabbed the griffon once more in the neck, then withdrawing the blade again, plunged it into the beast’s chest feathers. By now they were both falling swiftly, with Shadow on the underside of the mess of tangled limbs. Leaving the knife buried in his enemy, Shadow batted aside the now loose claws around him and still holding onto the griffon, spread his wings wide. The force of the air flung him around to land on top of the griffon, which he grabbed roughly in his forelegs.

With three powerful flaps, Shadow drove them swiftly toward the ground. His opponent was twisting and screaming, but was too weak to escape before the few dozen lengths that separated them from the ground melted away. In a heartbeat they collided, with a nauseating crunch of breaking bones. Shadow was holding one hoof over the griffon's back, which sunk in over a hoof deep, and the other over a wing, which shattered and the shards of bone forced their way to show above the skin and feathers.

The impulse of the hit threw Shadow a few hooves in the air, and he landed shaking. As soon as he recovered, he looked around to see that Crash had taken care of not one, but three more griffins that had been hiding around the grove. The sergeant was trotting toward Shadow with a grin on his face, but stopped and winced when he got close to see Shadow’s face.

As for Shadow, he turned away from Crash, and bringing up a foreleg, wiped the blood out of his eyes. It didn’t do anything for Spitfire’s view, but left rivulets running down Shadow’s foreleg.

“They’re always bucking red...” muttered Shadow. He walked over to where the griffon lay, and roughly wiped his foreleg clean on the griffons pelt. Grabbing ahold of the knife, he yanked it out, causing the griffon to spasm. Two quick strokes served to wipe it clean too, leaving smears on the plumage. Leaning in close so the dying creature could hear, he whispered; “When you get to Tartarus, tell them that Shadow Wing sent you.”

At those words, the broken half-lion half-eagle beast lay still. Shadow stood up tall and forcefully re-sheathed his knife. He stood there for a moment before Crash walked up to his side.

“Hey, Hunter, you all there?”

“Yeah,” grunted Shadow.

“Ok, well good to hear. Lets check your leg.”

Shadow grunted and gingerly lifted his hindleg up. Crash looked it over for a bit, before nodding.

“Hmmm...yeah, that shouldn’t cause you too much trouble until we get back and have Mama Wolf patch you up. Lucky you didn’t get hit bad, I’d hate to have to carry you on the way home.” He slapped Shadow on the back and then spoke up. “Hey Savage, Chaff! We got ‘em boys! You’re home free, and we’ll be joining you in five.”

“Thank Celestia you guys made it!” cheered Savage.

“Well, I guess it deserves congratulations, I’ll pay to get you smashed tonight Hunter.” Chaff sounded pleased.

“I might actually take you up on that,” grumbled Shadow, as he looked over to the burnt out wreckage of the cabin. “Captain Skyward is probably going to burn my tail off when we get back.”

“What do you mea-oh. You left your rifle in the cabin, didn’t you?”

Shadow sighed. “Yes, I did. You think it survived?”

“No harm in checking.”

The two pegasi made their way over to the wreckage of the cabin, carefully picking their way around the bodies. Crash kicked a section of the wall with a foreleg, causing it to crumble to ash. They entered through the resulting hole, and looked around. Inside, everything was black. The dirt of the floor cracked underhoof, and piles of bones and gear lay scattered about, burnt and carbonized. Inside the next room, Shadow’s rifle still lay propped on the wall to where the window was. In excitement, he rushed over to grab it.

As soon as hoof met rifle, the scope lenses collapsed into a fine powder, leaving a pile of glittering ash on the floor. Where he touched the weapon it had bent inward, and Shadow yanked his hoof back with a curse.

“Hot?”

Shadow glowered at Crash and looked back at the rifle. The disturbance had caused it to shift, and the weakened metal of the frame bowed down under it’s own weight until the entire weapon was curved.

“Well, I’m fucked.”

“Hey, we’ll vouch for you. We got the princess out alive right? That’s what counts.”

At that moment, the speakers crackled a bit like an old fashioned radio, and a new voice spoke up. It sounded slowed with pain, yet pleased. Where all the previous names had appeared, it read ‘Cpt. Dive Skyward.’

“That’s excellent work, boys...darn good job.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’m real glad you handled this one well, Hunter...you have no idea how happy I am. I should be well enough by this evening to debrief you with all this magic healing crap they’re pumping me full off...what? What is it Ray?...oh? Who?”

There was a faint murmuring as the other pony on the Captain’s end started to go into some kind of explanation. This kept up for about half a minute until the Captain cut him off.

“Stop. Small words, remember?”

The fellow on the other end stammered, and Skyward interrupted him again.

“Don’t worry about it. So have you got them located, and can you patch me through?...Do it.”

There was a faint *pop* as the static on the line cleaned up, and a new window appeared on the computer. It showed a middle aged stallion with a light gray coat in a hospital bed. His short medium blue mane had dried blood in it, especially against the bandage that covered the right half of his face. The one eye that it didn’t conceal was yellow-gold, and conveying an angry glare toward Spitfire. When he spoke, it was far less cheerful than before.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Receiving no answer than a bunch of frightened expressions, Dive continued on even more angrily. “Seeing as you’ve declined to answer, I will assume you don’t. You’re in violation of a private, classified Royal Guard communication channel, and I don’t think you managed to get into it by accident. Since we can’t just hope you’ll keep quiet, Lieutenant Wing here will bring you all by headquarters as soon as he gets back. Until then you will remain where you are and you will not talk about what you have just seen. Lieutenant?”

“Sir!”

“Pick up Mama Wolf and bring these...Wonderbolts by.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you,” continued Dive, his one eye glaring unforgivingly. “Don’t even think about running. We will find you if you do.”

The video feed went blank, and the words ‘call dropped’ appeared in its place. Dead silence reigned through the group, growing more and more unbearable as the moments passed. Everypony was looking at Spitfire except Tameless, who was staring at the ground. She swallowed, worked up her nerve, and then broke the silence.

“Well, guess we do exactly that then, stay here and wait, unless anypony has a better idea.” The gathering of pegasi were quiet, and so she continued. “Alright, well, so long as you stay here at the field, I don’t mind what you do.”

After a little discussion, a game of cloud-ball was arranged. The team went to play, leaving Spitfire alone with Tameless.

“I brought this on myself,” he muttered. “If I hadn’t hired him I wouldn’t have to had to deal with this.”

“Tameless...”

“Spits’...I’m worried. I can’t see this ending up well for me. Those guys didn’t mess around. You saw how they killed anything and destroyed everything that got in their way.”

“Well...yeah that was pretty horrible. But we’re the Wonderbolts! Think of the outcry if we were to ‘disappear’. And honestly, this is Equestria. What would they do?”

“You don’t sound so convinced.”

“I’m not, but worrying about it won’t help me, or anypony for that matter.”

“I suppose.” Tameless trotted off, leaving Spitfire to do exactly what she was pretending not to.

Over an hour had passed, and the sun was sitting at its noontime zenith. This left the Wonderbolts hot and sweaty, and also very hungry. Soarin’ had complained to Spitfire, and when she didn’t let him leave to get food, had walked off muttering about how both she and Shadow Wing were jerks. There was nothing unusual about Soarin’ being hungry, but it had been long enough now that Spitfire was beginning to hunger too.

Looking across the field, she could see that the cloud-ball game was still going strong, probably because the workout had been cut short by the computer escapades and her team still had a lot of energy left. As she watched, somepony kicked the ball extra hard and sent it screaming toward the cloud-walls of the practice field. It cleared the edge, and narrowly missed pegging Shadow in the face as he made his way down to land.

Instead of the combat suit he’d been wearing before, he was clad in the blue cap, sunglasses, and shirt of a Wonderbolts coach. Around his shoulders and midsection lay the wooden yoke of a common sky chariot, in which he was pulling a gray unicorn mare. Spitfire guessed this was ‘Mama Wolf’. She looked to be in her mid thirties, making the gray coat and mane natural, not the product of age. When they landed, her eyes could be made out to be a bright yellow, and she was wearing delicate looking eyeglasses with a frame made of silver wire. Her cutie mark was a pile of sticks and leaves bundled together, which was incredibly unhelpful for Spitfire, but it didn’t strike her as particularly intimidating.

Upon landing, the unicorn jumped right out, bouncing as she hit the clouds. With a quick burst of magic she freed Shadow from the yoke. The ‘bolts cautiously walked toward the odd couple, but no so quickly as to placate Shadow’s impatience. He waved at all them and motioned for them to come closer.

“Hurry up!” he spat as he waved impatiently with a foreleg. He could have been a lot louder.

Once they had all gathered around, the unicorn’s horn lit up with a double-aura, and her eyes shone with a solid pale gray. She was chanting quickly and far too quietly for Spitfire to understand, but it sure didn’t sound like the Princess’s Equestrian. Underneath their hooves a large and elaborate pentacle formed in faint gray, the many swirls and lines making it impossible for Spitfire to take in in one glance.

Everything aside from the runic lines and the ponies within went blinding white, and Spitfire put one foreleg in front of her eyes to shield them from the glare. When the light settled a few moments later, they were in a stone walled room, just large enough to fit the pentacle, which was etched half a hoof deep into the concrete floor. Smoke rose from the outer ring, which Mama Wolf crossed over, and out a door large enough to fit three ponies side by side, just as tall as wide.

“Wait here.” Shadow gave the simple instruction then made to leave the room. While Mama Wolf turned right, he went left, and the loud echoes of their hoof-falls on the concrete floor began to fade away. From the direction Shadow went came the knock of hooves on wood, and a muffled voice gave its reply. More hoof steps, then the sound of a door shutting not very gently, then all was quiet.

Well I’ll be darned if I just let him take my entire team and do...whatever it is. She stood up tall and turned to face the step down out into the hall.

“Hey, whaddya think you’re doing?” demanded Twitch.

“What am I doing? What do you think?! I’m going to do...something. Didn’t you see what those stallions did? Don’t you think that could happen to us?”

“I think you’re overreacting a bit Spits’. We’re not foalnapping the princess, and not trying to kill anypony. They’ll probably just slap on us the fetlock, tell us not to tell anypony, and let us go.”

“Yeah!” said Tameless. “They might do something worse if you go out there.”

“Oh, somepony told me it’s ok because ‘we can’t get in any more trouble now can we?’ Now shush.”

Looking back toward the door, Spitfire took a few experimental steps, trying to see how quietly she could walk on the concrete. It took a few tries, but she quickly found that by rolling her hoofs as they landed and setting them down gently, she made next to no noise when she was going slowly. Confident in her ability to go unnoticed by unfriendly ears, Spitfire snuck into the hall.

“Cmon Spit’s, just get back here!” hissed Twitch. She was motioning rapidly and desperately for Spitfire to turn around. For Spitfire’s part, she put a hoof up to her lips to say 'hush' and went down the hall in the direction Shadow had went. It was about twenty lengths long, and dimly lit by a few light-spells embedded in the ceiling. There were three plain wooden doors at the end, one to the left, one right, and one directly opposite from her.

Cautiously, Spitfire crept over to the end of the hall, toward the faint voices she could hear. As she got close, she could tell that whoever was talking sounded very angry, and was in the room to the left. Creeping up to it, she could see the name plaque read ‘Dive Skyward’. Above the name was a crescent moon, which Spitfire recognized as the Royal Guard insignia for a captain. Unable to hear exactly what was being said, she pressed her ear up to the door.

“What do you mean you left your weapon?! You left it inside a building set with enough flare charges to go sky-high! Whatever possessed you to do something so stupid?” Skyward was shouting, and clearly enraged.

“There was no time, and I couldn’t carry both it and the shotgun!” Shadow was talking very fast, and in a much higher pitch than usual.

“Only because you failed to plan ahead! You weren’t thinking of what you’d do once you had to grab the shotgun. Do you have any idea how much that rifle cost?”

“N-no, sir.”

“It took Ray two weeks and fifteen thousand bits to finish your one-of-a-kind sniper rifle, that you left to be turned to ash!” Skyward sighed, and the lowered his voice a little. Spitfire pressed her ear a little harder into the door.

“Look, son,”

SON?!

“I know you did what you had to do, and...that’s the right thing to do as a leader. At the end of the day, what really matters is that you got Princess Twilight out of there alive and relatively unharmed, and you brought all your boys back alive. I’ll bother Princess Luna for the bits to replace your rifle. She probably won’t mind too much, not if I tell her it was the cost to make the rescue work. However, you’re the one that gets to apologize to Ray for breaking his baby, and until he builds you a new one, you’re just going to have to use a standard issue Guard sniper rifle.”

“Thanks, Dad. About weapons, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about my sidearm. Do you think you could get me something a little faster?” Shadow had apparently relaxed too.

“What, is something wrong with your pistol?”

“No, but it almost ran out of ammo before I took out my target. I almost got hosed.”

“How about you ask Ray to modify one of the standard issue short-rifles? The regular model is a tad inaccurate and heavy. And I want you to find Mama after this, and get her to fix your leg up for you. I don’t want you going on mission hurt, because you may very well be leading the next one. It’s about all I can do to sit up and talk to you right now.”

“Are you going to be alright?”

“Of course,” scoffed Skyward. “Getting hit in the head is never good, but I’ll recover in a few days. Thank Celestia for healing magic, or we’d all have gone death’s way a long time ago.” Skywards voice began to lose the friendliness it had slipped into in favor or sternness. “Anyways, now there is the issue of the security breach. I’m not happy about this. We have never had a problem like this in the team’s history. You did get all of them and bring them here with you, right?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well then I want you to watch over them and make sure they don’t do anything stupid while Mama takes care of of them. We’ll just go with the forced oath option, ‘cause if we deleted their memories, no end of trouble would come from it. We’ve drawn enough attention as it is. Once Mama has finished the binding spells, take them on back. And now we get to the difficult part. Can you keep your current cover job? If not, I want you to try to find a less conspicuous one, something to match your degree, so this crap doesn’t happen again. And it won’t happen again. If you can’t keep it together, I’ll dig through the mess of paperwork on my desk upstairs and find something horribly boring for your day-work. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir. I was going to try to apply to be a singer again, hopefully this time it will be a little better market then when I graduated."

Dive chuckled.

"That's perfect. I can't think of a job that has more anonymity than a musician. I'm still disappointed you that you didn't study something a little more productive. Hmm....I can probably employ you in something unimportant in the castle until you find...'work'. And should it somehow workout well, don't get too big. I don't want to cover your rump again. Anything else I need to know before you go?"

"No, sir."

“Good. Take this, and go clean up your mess.”

Spitfire leaned away from the door just in time for it to swing open. Fear coursed through her as she saw Shadow carrying a pistol. He looked at her with wide eyes for a second, then closed the door. When he turned back around, she could see he was sweating, and trembling just a little. His expression brightened a bit, and he opened his mouth to speak, paused, and then frowned.

“Come on.”

He sounded exasperated, scared, and confused, but didn’t seem very angry at her for being there. Together they walked back in silence. Spitfire’s mind was buzzing with questions, but one look over at Shadow quashed all of them. One hoof clenched tightly around his weapon as they walked, a look of grim determination on his face, and sweat still glistening on his coat. She now knew why he had been so secretive, why he was so fit, and why he treated every practice like a military workout. She wished she didn’t.

When they got back to the room they’d arrived in, he reached out with his empty foreleg to offer her help up the step. She reached out to take his hoof. For not the first time she noticed the faint dull-red tint on it. Images flashed before her eyes of a knife in those hooves, and blood running down them. She shuddered as she realized why they were red, and drew her leg back to take the step on her own. Shadow stood in the doorway cradling his pistol, his expression blank again.

They all waited in silence for a few minutes until the familiar clacking of hooves on concrete sounded in the hall. Shadow stepped aside to make way for Mama Wolf, who was carrying a dusty old book and a scroll in her magical grip.

“Alright,” she spoke in an amiable tone. “I have to get a spellbound promise from each of you to not talk about all that, and then you can go right on home. Don’t you worry now, it won’t hurt a bit. So who is first?” She graced them with a warm smile.

None of her team was looking particularly brave, so Spitfire steeled herself and spoke up.

“I will.”

“Alright young mare, just a moment.” The book whipped open, and Mama Wolf started reading off of it in old Draconic.

“Iuramentum ego hic laoreet, ut qui sponte consentiat, ad conditiones oblatas, suscipitur condicionibus dedit, et erit eis non periurabis, nisi solvit, ipse sui sanguinis.”

As she spoke, a gray glow wrapped its way around Spitfire’s neck and mouth. She couldn’t feel it, but it still made her nervous. When Mama Wolf had finished chanting, she held up the scroll and adjusted her glasses.

“Ok dear, I need you to repeat after me. I...” she waved her foreleg for Spitfire to speak.

“I, Spitfire...” From there on she echoed Mama Wolf word for world.

“...hereby promise from now onward...to never reveal any information...or knowledge of...by my actions or inaction...the existence or actions of Timberwolf Team...its support members and affiliates...and any other relevant information..until released from this obligation...by those parties aforementioned.”

When Spitfire had finished speaking those words, Mama Wolf looked back over at her at her book and finished the incantation.

“Sicut dictum est, ita fiat.” The words rang unnaturally loud in the air, and the magical bonds around Spitfire faded into nothing with a tingly feeling.

“There! All done. That wasn’t so bad was it? Ok next!”

One by on the ‘bolts took the oath, all relieved that Spitfire was unharmed by it. Even Tameless was willing, apparently convinced that he wasn’t going to suffer his fears. All the while, Shadow stood sentry in the doorway, staring. Spitfire made sure to look at anything other than him. Eventually, all the oaths had been given, and Mama Wolf shut her book.

“Alright everypony, thank you for being so helpful!” She addressed the group almost as a friendly teacher would talk to her class. “That’s a magic unbreakable oath you just took, so you can’t do anything wrong now, and there won’t be any punishment for you. Just step back inside the circle and I’ll take you all back so you can get back to your busy afternoon.”

Everypony was quick to oblige, including Shadow, who stuffed the pistol into his coach’s vest and took his place beside Mama Wolf. She brought the runes on the floor to life, and in a flash they were all standing back in the open air of the practice field. Mama Wolf was standing in the back of the chariot she’d left behind, and everypony else was left on the clouds. They stood up and waited, watching Shadow and Mama Wolf tentatively.

“You’re all free to go you know?” Shadow spoke just like he was telling them the practice session was over.

The gathered pegasi didn’t need to be told twice, and scattered off into the blue. Before Spitfire could leave too, Shadow bounded over to her.

“Wait!”

“What?” she asked tensely.

“Can we talk for a bit?” The desperation in his voice was all too apparent.

“I guess.”

By silent consent they both began to walk away from the chariot. After they were out of earshot, Shadow began to talk quickly and nervously.

“Look, I thought I was about to die, and I didn’t want to leave it unsaid...so...” he asked as he looked at her fearfully and expectantly.

Spitfire had known this was coming, and didn’t even need to think about the answer. She went to give him a piece of her mind.

“Well, you are a k-k-k-k-!” Her throat locked up and as much as she tried, the words wouldn’t come out. Shadow was so eager for a reply that he didn’t realize what was happening until Spitfire stopped and glared at him.

“Uh...I release you from your oath until I leave.”

“You’re a horrible pony! I saw you kill like you loved it! Blood dripping from your teeth and face and your hooves! I couldn’t ever love a monster like you! Hell, how can a monster like you even claim to love?!” The rant felt...right, telling Shadow exactly how she felt. She watched as his worried but hopeful smile shrunk away. He looked sad for the most fleeting of moments, but she blinked, and his visage had iced over. When he spoke again, none of the emotion was there, just a cold calm.

“Very well. Can I expect that you want me to continue working for you?”

“I’ll think about it, and give you a call with my decision.” Her favorite way to say no.

“Thank you for your consideration.”

Shadow trotted off toward the chariot, and Spitfire took to the air. She quickly left the field and sped home, going fast enough to drive out any other thoughts. When she got there, she sent out a text to the team telling them that there wouldn’t be practice the next day, then seized a bottle of cinnamon whiskey and forgoing a shot glass, sat down to erase all thoughts of her day.

Author's Note

Sorry for all the spacing issues. First time importing from a google doc, and boy it is messy. Gonna have to fix this sometime when it isn't 2 AM.

If you go to copy that Latin into google translate, it's gonna be pretty messed up. Even after some personal correction with my Latin dictionary, it still comes up really messed up. Use your imagination =)

For their weapons, you can picture whatever works, but if you want a visual reference; Shadow uses something very much like an M300 and an M1911. Chaff lent Shadow something very much like an M1014, and Savage handed over his M72. Those with rifles on Timberwolf team had something very much like an M4, and the griffons something very much like...well go back and find the pun.

I re-named Dive McSkyward to Dive Skyward after Dizziestbeef pointed out it may have sounded far too much like a certain other fictional character. I owe him my thanks again for pointing out a lot of my stupid, and his personal knowledge on the internal mechanics of firearms.

This is halfway for this story, and I hope it hasn't been too crazy yet. If you're still here with me, thank you.

Your Cold Demeanor

Didn't want to pick up that phone and call
Knew you never loved me at all
I'm so tired of being insignificant and small

Mom and Dad we're so through
I hated every minute with you
Time to make my life anew

Life on the streets, it's better this way
Though I'm often hungry and can't find any pay
Hard though it is, I'm glad I didn't stay,
I'm my own pony today.

-Riff Runner, lyrics excerpt from 'How it Was'

The tavern was warm and busy, the friendly drone of chatter and the haze of smoke covered everything. Business was strong, and the bartender found himself busy. In the far corner, surrounded by a number of tables, two musicians lent their talents to the atmosphere. One slate-coated green-maned pegasus stallion bent over his guitar, feather tips pressing the frets, standing next to a unicorn mare with an ashen coat, and a mane of obsidian with a fiery orange streak. Together they sang for the patrons. Just beyond the sound of the guitar, one could hear the soft pitter-patter of the rain out on the streets. A typical Friday night in the city, with ponies going about in the murky light left by the street lamps.

Most of the patrons came in twos and threes, and some even in huge gaggles. The sole exception to this was languishing in a booth toward the back. His long white and yellow mane lay over his face, which was resting on the table. He was barely old enough to be let into the bar, let alone rate the term ‘stallion’. While all the other ponies his age were busy indulging in drink, and even worse vice, he had nothing but a glass of water, and a mess of papers spilling from a folder in front of him.

Venting a groan, Riff Runner shoved his mane out of his eyes and looked up at the clock. Looking back down, one could see his light brown eyes framed against a midnight gray-blue coat. The clock read ten o’clock, and the next auditionee wasn’t supposed to show until ten-fifteen. For lack of anything better to do, Riff put his muzzle back down to the papers and read over the results for the up-teenth time that day.

Twelve profiles, and twelve matching sets of notes concerning the hopefuls who had interviewed greeted his gaze. Each one brought painful memories to his mind. The first three had all sorts of poor tone. One was a pop-style singer, and a mare, when the add Riff had placed had clearly stated that the position was for a stallion, singing something a good deal heavier. The next guy hadn’t even shown up, and the one after that had a horrible accent and couldn’t properly speak Equestrian. It had been like that all day, but most annoyingly of all; every last one of them had songs they’d brought for his band to play. It was plain insulting, even after the add had said otherwise. Why do they always think that their stuff is better? It’s not like I can’t write good lyrics just because I’m the guitarist.

Another dull rumble of thunder reverberated through the room as Riff shoved the papers back into the folder and let his forehead slump back onto the table. He exhaled slowly, coating the tabletop beneath his muzzle with a film of condensation. Wiping away the moisture soothed his troubled mind, and he looked back up just in time to see the tavern door swing open. In walked a pony in a black hat and a dripping raincoat.

The newcomer paused to take a look around, his gaze eventually settling on Riff. They locked eyes for a moment, tired and brown meeting tired and gray for just a moment before the other pony took off his hat and raincoat. This freed up his back to stretch the large and cramped wings underneath. After spreading those wings, the pegasus shook himself mostly dry, and started walking toward Riff.

So this is Shadow Wing. Now that Shadow was not covered in a raincoat, Riff got a good look at him. The last of the night’s hopefuls looked to be five or six years his senior, and shorter. His coloring was an unsightly mix of sickly green and dark blue, but most interestingly, he was wearing silver hoof-caps. One plain, un-engraved metal cap covering each hoof and a bit of the leg. It was an old style, and had been out of fashion for several decades. Most noticeable to the younger unicorn was how Shadow was wearing an absolutely tacky sports watch on the front-left ankle. Riff shoveled the papers back into his folder and pulled out a clean one just in time for Shadow to sit down.

“You’re early.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, no...” Riff rubbed his forehead and let out a long breath. “In fact, that’s a good thing. Just wasn’t expecting you just yet. We’ll get a bit more time this way. Didja bring what I asked for?”

Shadow proffered a manilla folder in response, which was enveloped in a fiery yellow glow and floated over to Riff. The first thing to greet his eyes upon opening the folder was a resume. What the buck? Does this guy think he’s applying to be a secretary?At the bottom was a phone number, address, and other contact info.

Next up was a selection of spell-tapes, sealed in a clear plastic bag. Most were marked as samples, though two of them bore the names of songs Riff had written. This already put him ahead of several of the idiots who thought they could apply without having even tried any of what they’d be expected to sing.

Behind the tapes was one more piece of paper, laminated and with metal corner covers. At the top sat a magically embossed seal, the spell animating it displaying a sea of multicolored forelegs holding up a scroll against the backdrop of a blazing sun. In fancy bold lettering it read:

THE ROYAL CANTERLOT UNIVERSITY IS PROUD TO PRESENT

ON THIS FOURTEENTH DAY OF OF THE MONTH OF BLOSSOMING

IN THE YEAR OF THE RULE OF OUR PRINCESS CELESTIA

FIVE THOUSAND-ONE-HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FOUR

THE DEGREE OF BACHELOR OF ARTS IN MUSIC TO

SHADOW WING

WITH ALL THE RIGHTS AND PRIVILEGES DUE

Hmm...no middle name. Ok, suppose it isn’t that rare.

At the bottom there were two completely illegible signatures on the lines for dean and president of the college. All and all it looked very official, and it would be good to have guy who had actually studied in the right field. None of the other applicants were in the possession of a degree. Then again, almost any bozo with enough bits to spend four years in school could obtain a degree these days, and ‘music’ could mean just about anything.

“Got a specialty in this degree?”

“Vocals.”

“And your cutie mark...?”

“Acoustics.”

“Well sorry to disappoint, but our keyboardist does all our mixing and production. But that’s besides the point. Let me just go out and say it, today has been rough, and you are probably just going to be another piece of shit for us to get out of the way. Come on back and lets get started.”

Riff hoofed the diploma back over to Shadow, then added all the rest of the contents to his own bundle of misery. Together they got up and headed toward the hall leading toward the back rooms of the pub. One looked to be for storage, another housing for the owner, and the one at the very end all the hall was slightly ajar, with the raised voices of an argument spilling from behind it.

Riff pushed open the door to reveal a meeting room of sorts, now completely repurposed. The table had been pushed into a corner to make room for a drumset, two keyboards, two electric guitars on stands, and a small bank of amplifiers. Sitting on top of those amplifiers was a brown unicorn stallion with a nearly white mane.

“...and what do you mean she blew me off?! She was just busy!”

He was arguing with a red coated, yellowed maned unicorn mare standing behind the keyboards. That was Vivace, and her response was so fast that Riff barely could make sense of what she said.

“Of course she was Sable. She just so happened to ignore the drink you pushed toward her, avoided you all evening accidentally, and she totally didn’t trip you on purpose either. Saving face is gonna be real tough with that bruise on your cheek. If you want this to go away, you should admit that you’re wrong, and then we can talk about something else. I might even give you some advice.”

“Yeah I call BS on that.” The bassist turned to look at the drummer, waving a hoof in an imploring manner. “Kicks, what do you think? Please tell her she’s wrong.”

The burly green earth pony mare behind the drums was sitting very still, the one blue eye not covered by her messy purple mane was staring at the wall, unmoving. It almost looked like she was ignoring Sable, but Riff knew better. Rather than wait, as amusing as the scene was, Riff coughed to get their attention, causing the two unicorns to turn around and look over the newcomers.

“Oh hey Riff, whaddaryou doing back here already? Oh, is that our next guy? Pffft he looks funny. What’s with the hoof caps? Ya think you’re fifty?” exclaimed the keyboardist as she slid over to them.

“Yes, yes he is. Everypony meet Shadow Wing. Shadow Wing, meet Vivace, Sable Scratch, and Double Kick.” Riff pointed in turn to the keyboardist, the bassist, and the drummer before picking up one of the guitars from the stand and slinging the strap over his back. “Hey Kicks, wake up!”

Double Kick jumped in her seat and shook her mane out of her eyes, eliciting a laugh from Sable and Vivace. Well look at this. They all seem plain unhappy to see him. They’re probably just as tired as I am. And who knows. He’ll be probably one more washout before we are finally done for the night...and have to go back to working another shift.

“Ok dude, lets get this started.” Riff flicked the ‘on’ switch on the bank of amplifiers, and adjusted the guitar strap until it was comfortable. He pointed at the microphone standing in the middle of the floor, and Shadow took his place in front of it. “Let’s start with ‘The End’. No I’m not making a pun. You do know it right?”

A loaded, rhetorical question if he’d ever asked one. If Shadow said ‘no’, Riff was showing him to the door. The application package had several demos of the band’s work built in for a prospective singer to listen to and learn. To Riff’s relief, Shadow nodded, and Kicks gave the drum two slow clicks and then four on tempo to start them off. The melodic part to this one was all Vivace, and the guitar part was nothing but power chords, which allowed Riff to pay plenty of attention to how Shadow was singing. He was hitting the notes right on pitch, and right on tone, but the emotion was missing.

The numbers proclaim the last year of the age,

Only one more to turn the ancient page,

For such a long time it was still too short to gauge,

How much of his heart was still consumed in rage.

One final day, the last one of the year,

Just one more for him to live in fear,

The anger and sorrow are all oh so clear,

It was long ago when he ran out of tears.

And time...slips...away...

I can’t wait one more day...

You promised me you were my friend,

Will you hold true in the end?

It was...confusing. Most singers plied their art with passion first and precision second. But as Riff kept strumming along, he couldn’t help but think that Shadow was treating it more like an exercise to be perfected.

Sun dies in the last hour of the day,

Slipping behind the horizon to pave darkness’s way,

he bows his head, and droops his tail to pray,

But decides better and turns the other way.

A minute’s pause in the air before the rainfall,

In which fear causes all though to slow to a crawl,

Against the ages a span unimaginably small,

Among those ages remembered greater than them all.

And time...slips...away...

I can’t wait one more day...

You still promise that you’re my friend,

Hold true ‘cause we’re almost at the end.

And now the instrumental. It’s my job to be machine-precise...not his. This is just plain weird. If he could just act like he believes the words he’s singing it would be perfect. Riff shoved all thoughts from his mind to make room for playing the last verse and chorus while still listening to the singing.

A last second, a last sliver of time,

All fear and terror becomes bliss most sublime,

No reason to shake, no fear of mine,

At the end for which I’ve pined.

And time...is now...all gone...

The journey over and the fight won...

Now tell me are you really my friend?

Because we’re here together at the end.

The song ended, the chord holding perfectly until Riff ran his hoof down the bridge then muted the string with his fetlock, followed by Kick giving a few raps on the snare to end it. A quick check ensured that the audio recorder had caught all of it, and Riff was back to business.

“Ok, that was alright, but you can’t sing it like Discord himself has taken ahold of you and made you boring. It needs emotion. You gotta sing it like you’re really feeling what you sing. Think ya can do that for us?”

“Sure.”

Riff almost shook his head. Seriously, would it have been too much to ask for a ‘YEAH!’ as a reply when more emotion was demanded?

“Ok, well good thing the next one is to work on specifically that, giving some damn feeling. Lets do ‘Crush’.”

This one was a slower and sadder piece, which Riff wrote back on one particularly crappy day of high school. Later he came back and put music to it. He never really could sing it like how he imagined...but had yet to hear anypony do it justice.

I saw you one day,

I don’t remember where,

Then found out you were a friend of a friend,

And didn’t really care.

I learned your name,

But I soon forgot,

Until you came back again and again,

And with you your smile brought.

It made me glad indeed,

To think myself your friend,

I had no reason to want more,

Each kind word is a heaven-send.

But too soon the day came,

When my heart wept with loneliness and pain,

Despite how I tried I could not find solace,

So I went to walk in the night and the rain.

When I at last returned and saw you,

A spark lit up my eyes,

Suddenly a hope filled me and left me,

For a way I could not surmise.

I knew you wouldn’t want me,

And if I spoke of my heart you’d be dismayed,

So I took all of myself,

Locked me up and pushed me away.

Now I know why it is called a crush,

It is to me what you must now do,

Crush my hopes, quench that fire, destroy that love,

Because it can only hurt me and you.

Again, it was almost perfectly on pitch. The voice was there, carrying the sorrow that Riff had asked for. In the middle of the song, Riff closed his eyes and just played his part, letting himself be immersed in the flow of the sound. Had those words been sung by him, it would have been exactly as he pictured. As it was, it was...different. Not what he’d imagined, but something that still evoked the feeling as if his heart was melting within his chest. Looking to complete the feeling, Riff opened his eyes to look at Shadow--and the feeling died.

In front of him, the pegasus was singing with the passion asked of him, but with an entirely blank face. He wasn’t going to be fooling anypony. Ugh! This is so close to being what we need, but not quite it!

When the song ended, somepony sniffled. Ignoring that, Riff gave Shadow some more feedback.

“Ok, getting better, but you’ve really gotta look them part. Look...” Riff paused as he tried to think of the right words. “You’ve had mare problems at one point or another right? So just think of that. Think of how much it hurt when it didn’t work out. You feel that pain? Good. Hold onto it while we do the last one. Make it angry.”

That last song that was in the audition was ‘Inspired’, a bid to get the aspiring vocalist to show his heavier vocals. Not quite a death growl, but hard. This was where most of the singers had totally messed it up. It was more fast paced, and they band hit it with enthusiasm, being their last number of the night.

Perhaps it was the right advice, perhaps something in ‘emotion’ finally clicked with the new guy, but whatever the reason, he got it right. Shadow was staring into thin air, shouting in a rage seemingly directed to an invisible pony. Again, it wasn’t quite the right tone of voice, but it certainly wasn’t bad. Something akin to the tone of voice the guards used when they shouted at Riff when he’d been caught shoplifting in middle school.

Whisper to me oh muse, my muse of foul play,

The cheating and lying, bickering and crying,

The winner’s false joy and the loser’s dismay.

Tell me oh muse, my muse of bad work,

The shortcuts and stress, the paycuts and distress,

And of those bosses who are jerks.

The cruelty whispers to me,

The hurt cries out its plea,

Oh they inspire me.

Sing to me oh muse, my muse of lost love,

Of what could and should have been but never happened,

And when hate ensued after against it he and she both strove.

Yell to me of muse, my muse of terrible war,

The blood and the gore, the fighting in store,

The wrong cause for which more die, so many more.

The cruelty whispers to me,

The hurt cries out its plea,

Oh they inspire me,

The hatred sings to me,

The fighting tells me to flee,

Oh they love me.

It was that time of song. Playing power chords with just hooves was actually pretty damn easy if the guitar was drop-tuned: bar the bottom three strings and strum like hell. Magic to mute it. It was easy enough that the next trick up was just within his abilities. It couldn’t hurt that it was also his special talent.

Riff swiftly levitated the the second guitar out of its stand, and with pure telekinesis ran the solo along its length. It wasn’t the first time, or the fiftieth he’d played this song. Maybe the five hundredth-there was not a chance that he’d miss a note. What was different was how alive he felt while doing so. He came out of the solo and set the second guitar down breathing hard, playing with vigor through the last two verses and chorus.

Murmur to me oh muse, my muse of grim death,

The path beyond which so many needlessly fear,

The only one with lasting rest.

Scream to me oh muse, my muse of pain!

For without you I have no story to tell,

And nothing else to gain!

The cruelty whispers to me,

The hurt cries out its plea,

Oh they inspire me,

The hatred sings to me,

The fighting tells me to flee,

Oh they love me.

The death calls for me,

The pain becomes me,

Oh they are me.

YES THEY ARE ME!

The final note rang out, sustained as long as it could go before breaking pitch. When they stopped, everypony was breathing hard. Riff leaned over and hit the ‘stop’ button on the recorder. I’ll be wanting that. Now for a little tradition.

“Ok bucko. That was O-K. Whaddya all think?” asked Riff to the assembled band members. There was a twinkle in Kicks’ eyes, and the slightest nod from Sable. They got it alright.

“Hmm...I’d have to listen to the tapes...but you really don’t have a chance. We had a lot of shit ponies audition today, yourself included, and I’m gonna have to spend some quality time listening over the other records before I tell you to go buck yourself, so don’t get your hopes up.” Sable was droning in a completely disinterested tone.

“Yeah! That robot stuff you did earlier is plain creepy and I really didn’t like it!” piped Vivace.

“I don’t know what to think right now.” Kicks spoke in an unusually deep voice for a mare, which made her sound bemused almost regardless of how she talked. “But you need work.”

“Well Shadow,” chatted Riff as he put a hoof up on Shadow’s shoulder and began walking him to the door. Shadow immediately stiffened and brushed off the offending limb. “We’ll call you if we want you to come in for a second audition, but like Sable said, we can’t say just yet. Got a number we can call you by?”

“It’s in the resume.”

Oh, right.

“Oh, ok then. Well have a good night.” Riff shut the door behind the hopeful and turned around to face his crew. What was upcoming should have been worth a short discussion, but knowing this motley lot, it was going to take a bit. With a sigh, the guitarist dragged a stool into the middle of the room and plopped his rump down on it.

“Ok fillies and colts, I don’t know what you all think, but...”

“He’s creepy as Tartarus!” interrupted Vivace. “Did you see how he sang the first song? It was almost like he was a zombie!”

“Zombies don’t exist Vivace...” objected Sable.

“Yes they do! Whydontyoubelieveme?!”

“No, that’s just-”

“Not listening you’re wrong!”

“ENOUGH!” shouted Riff. They’d gone on a tangent as fast as was equinely possibly. “Look, Vivace, I know that stoicism and singing don’t go together well, but it looked like he could snap out of it with the right motivation. He’s got a degree in music, and he was the best of the trash we got tonight. Does anypony agree with me?”

“I do. He did good enough. With some practice he’d be fine.” Kicks declined to comment any further before lapsing back into her daydreaming.

Sable gave his two bits worth a little more warmly.

“I agree with Kicks. I liked what he did. Wasn’t quite what we were looking for, not hardcore enough, but what the heck. We can work with it, if we can get that darn pegasus to loosen up. Somepony needs to buy him an ale.”

“Well then...I think we should give him a shot. If we can get him to do what he did for ‘Inspired’ this could just work out. And honest to goodness, I’m real tired of cooking hayfries for a living. This might be our break.” Riff crossed his forelegs and gave Vivace a hard glare. “So guys, unless we have any more objections other than ‘creepy’ because you’re weird too Viv’...I’m gonna call him and tell him he’s got the spot.”

Vivace stuck out her tongue and then retreated to pack up her keyboards. Kicks and Sable also began to put away the gear they’d lugged in. Riff for his part sauntered over to his saddlebags which he’d left under the table, and pulled out his phone. The screen was cracked from two years back, and it had a barely functioning battery. He booted it up, and started feeding his own magic into the aging device to keep it on long enough to punch in the number and call. It rang twice before Shadow picked up.

“Hello.”

“Oh hey, Shadow, it’s Riff.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Well...how about you drop by tomorrow at five-thirty. We’ll discuss more then, but so you don’t go wasting your time looking, we’d like to have you in our band. Whaddya say?”

“I accept. Where is your apartment?”

“2132 Old Sunburst Way-and that’s Kicks’ place, we normally meet there. Keep working on that ‘emotion’ thing I told you earlier, and we’ll see you then ok?”

“Ok.”

“I’m gonna send you the rough takes of what you’ll need to know. Do you have an email?”

“It’s on the resume.”

Ah shit...

The line went dead. Riff would have been peeved at how short the conversation was if he didn’t have to maintain the call out of his already exhausted magic reserves. Catching the phone in his mouth, he put it back in the saddlebags, then stooped low before levitating them onto his back. The other three were waiting for him, gazes ranging from expectant (Sable), to concerned (Vivace), to utterly indifferent (Kicks).

“Well, he accepted our offer.”

“Alright!”

“Hmph.”

“Ok, same time and place then?”

“Yeah you got it. Get ready to practice hard. I’m gonna see if I can’t score us a gig for a few weeks out. See you all later.”

Riff started to put away the guitars as everypony else headed out the door, Sable with most of the amps in magical tow.

“Night.”

“Take care!”

“Bye.”

The annoying thing about rain was that it soaked through his coat. It dripped through his mane, attracting more-than-friendly stares from the mares as he passed down the sidewalk. Under the weight of the water, his tail drooped into the muck that ran with the rivulets in the streets, dirtying the blonde. Magic kept the guitars on his back dry inside their cases as he trotted along, but it would be too much effort to dry himself as well. Worst of all though, the rain hadn’t stopped for the last two days.

Riff walked faster, as if he could somehow be anything less than completely soaked when he arrived at Kicks’ apartment. Hurriedly he trotted up the steps and thumped a hoof on the door, complementing the rhythmic drumming noises from within. Before anypony could answer he shook himself hard, spraying water all over and drastically messing up his tail and mane.

“Come on in Riff, we know it’s you. You know you don’t need to knock!” Vivace’s voice rang out clearly through the thin walls. It was a great indication of how much the neighbors were pissed most evenings when they got done. Not that it was his problem, they always finished before noise violation laws kicked in, and the guards wouldn’t bother responding to such a petty offense in such a trashy part of the city. Riff let himself in, and wiped his hooves on the doormat.

On the inside was the living room of Kicks’ place. Her apartment had three rooms: a bedroom, a bathroom, and an ‘everything else’ room. That meant what little kitchen she had was in one corner, and musical equipment covered most of the rest. The drum set, several amplifiers, and a mess of wires hooked into power strips covered the threadbare carpet.

Double Kick was sitting on a stool behind the drumset, tapping her sticks lightly against the drums, her legs, the walls, and anything else in reach. Sable and Vivace were sitting on the sofa in the other corner. Both were still in their matching ‘Hay-Mart’ grocery store work clothes, remarkably dry. Before Riff could ask how they managed to escape the rain, Vivace blasted him with a heat-spell, and the water rose as steam off of Riff, further matting up his coat and messing up his mane. She laughed, and he came up with all the snark he could to answer her welcome.

“Yeah, but it’s a courtesy to knock. And for all I know you and Sable are making out on the other side. I came here to blow out my eardrums, not my eye sockets.”

Sable facehoofed, but Vivace didn’t miss a beat.

“You heard the drums, so you know Kicks is home.”

“So the three of you were making out.” Riff unslung the cases and got out his guitars.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’d actually like to see that...” muttered Sable.

“Aww you know I’m just teasing, now lets get to this. Where’s Shadow?”

“Dunno,” answered Sable, brightening at the change of topic. “I called him but just got voicemail. Said something like ‘I am still at work, so leave a message and I’ll call you as soon as I’m free’.”

“Huh...” Riff started to tune up the guitars. “Well he’s late. I suppose we can get started without him, but if he doesn’t show I’m gonna be at a loss for what to do. Just so damn frustrated with ponies who can’t be bucked to show up on time.” Three knocks sounded loudly at the door. “Well speak of the changeling...”

Riff trotted over to the door and opened it to find a relatively dry Shadow on the other end, covered in the same hat as the night before, but minus the raincoat. After ushering him inside, Riff couldn't help his curiosity.

“Dude, how the hay are you not soaking? Do you work just down the street or something?”

“No.”

“Well where did you come from? You’re late, and Sable here says it was because of work.”

“I work at the castle. Had to stay a little late today. Sorry about that, but I got here as quick as I could.”

At the castle? Well aint that posh.

“And what the hay do you do there? It’s on the other side of the city, so how did you not get soaked?”

“I’m a butler. And I flew over the clouds until I got here. So what’s the plan for tonight?”

Riff puffed up at this, he’d been waiting to make this announcement all day.

“Listen up fillies and colts. This Friday night I’ve got us a gig at the The Weathered Saddle. We’re going to play pretty much everything that we’ve decided to put on the first album, so we’re gonna run each of those tonight once or twice to see what we really need to work on, and then hit that up.”

A mix surprise and concern greeted his words.

“Alright! It’s about time we did something real!” cheered Sable.

“FRIDAY NIGHT!? But tonight’s Tuesday! That only gives us three nights to practice.” Vivace was verging on one of her freak-out episodes.

“So...that means you should calm down, and we should practice.” Double Kick motioned for Vivace to get herself behind the keyboards. Catching the hint, everypony took their places.

“Ok, so we’re just gonna take it from the top.” Riff levitated a setlist and a printout of the lyrics over to Shadow. “You got some idea of what they should be like?”

“Yep. Listened to the stuff you sent a lot.”

“Alright then. Lets go!”

The next forty-five minutes and change were a maelstrom of pure music and magic energy. The songs told of Riff’s hurts and failures in life, hopes and dreams, and a few of the songs did the same for Sable and Vivace. It was sad and angry, but energetic, and by the time they finished, everypony was covered in a sheen of sweat. As the final note faded away, Riff allowed himself to smile, just a little bit, until Vivace broke the fading harmony.

“I just can’t take it anymore! I don’t want to be in the same room as that freak!” She stuck a foreleg out at Shadow, then stormed down the hall to the back.

“Ugh...she probably just needs some fresh air, I’ll go see if she’s ok.” Sable got up and followed her.

“Hmm...well I don’t know what’s got her bothered, but we sure have a lot to talk about Shadow. If you can’t get yourself out of this ice sculpture indifference here, I may just ask her to insult you more in hopes that you can give out just a little anger.”

“Can I just pretend that I’m angry?”

Riff paused for a moment, letting such a ridiculous question sink in. No way! Well...if he really believes it...it could be like role playing it...it just might work...

“That depends, do you think you can...’pretend’ to be emotional for an entire hour, on stage? And do it so well that you talk like it, you sing like it, you look like it, you act like it? I want to see hurt on your face, I want to see rage when you stomp your hooves, and you’d better sing like you’re really feeling it. Can you do that?”

“I think so. I’d rather wait to try it until we run the material again though. Was there anything else?”

“Well just a few spots that you didn’t have the right attack on the notes, and twice you missed those entrances, but you remember those right? Really all that needs to be fixed is...well sing it like you mean it damnit!”

“Very well. Can we try this again?”

“Sure...let me go get Viv’. You two just...talk amongst yourselves. This may take a minute or two.”

Leaving Kicks and Shadow alone together was probably about as dangerous as leaving two blocks of wood together. If they’d even say a word to each other was up to question. Sable was probably the most normal of the group, driven by a fiery desire to ascend to the same prominence that his older sister held. And I just want to make my music heard. Oh, and to make enough bits to live in a decent home with decent food. We can all dream right?

In Kicks’ bedroom was a door that led to a very tiny and equally unkempt back porch-yard. The few square-lengths of ground were now turned to mud and choked with weeds. Vivace and Sable were sitting on the concrete step, and while their backs were turned to Riff, he knew exactly what the smoke rising from Vivace’s muzzle meant.

“No, I will not hold you. I hate the smell of that stuff. You told me you were going to quit. We both know you can’t afford this habit.”

“Yes...but it helps me chill out and slow down.” Vivace wasn’t kidding. Every time she smoked ‘horse’ she would calm down a lot. But it made her unstable and irritable when she didn’t have it. “I’m trying to get rid of it, but...”

“Yeah, well, keep trying then. You know I’ll try to help you, I’ll be there for you Viv’.”

“Thanks Sable.” Vivace put out the piece of notebook paper wrapped around that noxious powder and chucked it in a nearby trashcan. “Now will you hold me?”

“Oh alright, come here you.”

Sable pulled Vivace into a tight embrace, and Riff let them enjoy each other for a second or two before interrupting.

“You all cooled off now? Heh, look at you jump.”

“Riff! Can’t you let us be for a bit?” complained Sable.

“No, because I don’t want to see you two start eating each other’s faces...or worse. Oh and, we’re going to run the setlist again, so I kind of need you both. You all good to go?”

“Yeah I suppose, you manage to talk sense into Shadow?”

“I think so...he said something about pretending to be angry. Lets just hope it works.”

Sable shrugged, and then lifted Vivace to her hooves.

“Could work I suppose.”

“If it doesn’t, I’m punching him.” Vivace grinned at the thought. “Maybe then he’ll do something.”

They shared a chuckle and headed back to the living room. There they found Kicks staring into space, and Shadow reading over the lyrics, mouthing them quietly as he read through.

“... my hopes and dreams, and came to be today--” he stopped quickly as he saw them walk in, and quietly resumed his place behind the microphone.

“Ok Shadow, you all ready to so us some rage?”

“Yes.”

Not good.

They ran the set again, but it was as if they had brought an entirely different pony into the room to sing. This time, instead of holding still, he was in motion. That became swaying in front of the microphone, shaking his forelegs, and splaying out his plumage when he was particularly angry. But most important was his face. Riff could see in Shadow’s eyes that he believed what he was singing. When the set finally came to an end, all five of them were tired and sweaty, but Shadow was positively soaked. Soaked, and now sporting his typical utterly unconcerned expression.

“Now THAT is what I had in mind. And you were just acting as if you were angry the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“Well...I guess it works. Alright everypony, lets call it quits for tonight, meet back here at the same time tomorrow.” Before Shadow could turn to leave, Riff tapped him and quietly told him: “Follow me, we need to talk.”

Shadow nodded, and after they all finished packing up, followed Riff on outside. It had stopped raining, but none of the stars were visible through the blanket of clouds.

“Ok, lets get this straight, right here and right now. I don’t know what notions you had coming in as a singer, but you’re still not part of the band yet. We’ve got a while yet of seeing how you do. And second, this is my band, and it won’t ever be anypony elses. Even if we decide to bring you on board, that’s not gonna change. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.” Shadow deadpanned, rolling his eyes ever so slightly.

Well...so long as he gets it, I suppose I can let this go.

“Good.”

Riff levitated the last cable into its jack with a firm *snick*, and breathed a tense sigh of relief. Everything was in place and ready, but a cold nervousness was settling on him, tingles running down his neck and into his legs. Those jitters would go away once he could finally put his hooves on the strings and make a lot of noise, but until that started he’d just have to wait it out. It wasn’t like a normal performance. The Weathered Saddle was a large club and bar in one of the nicer districts of Canterlot, well-to-do enough to host their own musicians. Riff’s band was getting paid five hundred bits for the night, plus whatever the patrons tipped.

The part that was making him nervous was not the number of ponies they’d be playing in front of, but rather who else might be watching. If they did really well, the owner might invite them back, and that would keep their pockets lined nicely. More importantly, it was the kind of place frequented by record company workers.

With that firmly in mind, he turned back around to take one last look over everything to make sure it was in order. Drums in the back, keyboards a little forward and to one side, an open spot for Sable to stand to the other side, and two microphones front and center. Perfect. In spite of, or perhaps because of the mess of cables, it looked entirely legitimate.

At a wave from Riff, everypony took their places. With a start he realized Shadow was still wearing those darned hoof-caps and that ugly sports watch, even though he told them to choose between dressing classy, or not wearing anything. Before he could tell him to take them off, the curtain began to open. Yes, it was a nice enough place to have a curtain. Damn. Too late now.

With the curtain back, Riff could see the large open area of the club, filled with tables, potted plants, fish tanks, and just about anything else the owner thought would have a good effect. A lot of ponies filled that room. There had to be at least several hundred sitting at the tables and mingling.

“Fillies and gentlecolts,” a voice filled the room. “Please welcome to the stage tonight’s entertainment; ‘In Good Time!’”

A polite smattering of hoof stomps against the floor greeted Riff and his band, but it was very well muted by the carpet. Well, this is what I came for, so lets get on it with. He leaned forward over the microphone.

“Hello everypony, hope you’re all having a wonderful start to your weekend. If not, we’re here to help! Our first song is a number we call ‘Can’t Regret.’”

Kicks kicked off the song, and they launched right on into it. It was mere seconds before the nervousness faded away, replaced by the mild burn of standing on his hindlegs to play the backing guitar part. Shifting over power chords was an easy enough effort, giving him room to listen to the rest of the band. All was as it should have been, and Shadow was doing just fine.

As the song went on, Riff almost let himself get lulled into the music, but caught himself just before the solo part. With a quick burst of magic he popped the second guitar in the air, and ran a quick series of notes down the upper end of the fretboard. For Riff, nothing else mattered until the solo stopped, and he could set down the second guitar.

Panting hard after letting the concentration go, Riff gradually became aware of the world around him as they proceeded into the last chorus. Perhaps it was just stage goggles acting on him, but it seemed the crowd really was enjoying their show. As the song drew to the final note, noise overtook the sounds of the instruments, noise of a chorus of hoof stomps and cheers. Riff brought himself back over to the microphone to announce the next song.

“Alright! Lets keep this going! This next one is called ‘The End.’”

The evening was up all too quickly. Each song had produced more and more enthusiasm from the collection of ponies in the room, which had grown far more numerous as the night wore on. Either this club just got much busier it got later, or a lot of the ponies already there had called their friends.

“Alright you guys, just one more for you tonight. This one is called ‘Always Darkest Before.’” Without further words he hit the guitar line, and let the rest of his band follow. Sweat ran down his brow, and he shaking from the intensity, enjoying every second of it. From the way the keyboard, bass and drums washed over him, everypony else was enjoying themselves just as much. It was impossible to guess if Shadow was or not, but he sure sounded like it.

They say that a dying mare will see her life flash before her eyes,

That isn’t true you know-you only see what really mattered

It was you who quenched the fire in my eyes,

Only you could teach me how those bright lights die,

I couldn’t fight on through that deceit and those lies,

Now the spirit from my body springs and to the heavens flies,

So just hold on, no! My lungs won’t take another breath,

Get back up, yes! My face down in the dirt,
Fight on through, no! My eyes shut for one last time,

So get back up, yes! But my limbs betray my will.

A fate I always thought, would come another day,

Ignored my hopes and dreams, and came to be today,

One colt’s life, thus numbered in the slate,

The final gift in a short life, to know one’s own fate,

So just hold on, no! My lungs won’t take another breath,

Get back up, yes! My face down in the dirt,
Fight on through, no! My eyes shut for one last time,

So get back up, yes! But my limbs betray my will.

Now came his time to shine. Everything else went away as he poured the last verges of his magic into plucking the right notes on his second guitar. Beginners would practice until they could get it right, but Riff would go over his parts until he couldn’t get them wrong. For him it was a matter of whether or not he had enough energy left to finish it. Come...on....

As he hit the last note, the magic fizzled, and the guitar dropped to the stage, adding a loud thump to the drumbeat as the bridge started. Oh thank goodness it’s just chords from here on out.

Oh angels sweet, carry me away,

To my home, forever to stay...

So just hold on, don’t ever let me go,

Fight on through, and get back up!

But let go, you let me go,

JUST LET GO!

The roar from the audience was overwhelming. It was all Riff could do to give a farewell. He just wanted to bask in the applause.

“Sounds like you all enjoyed tonight every bit as much as we did! Thanks for having us. Remember, we’re ‘In Good Time’, and our first album should be out within the next month. Thanks again, and have a wonderful night!”

He turned away from the microphone as the curtain closed, and saw Sable and Vivace high-hoofing one another. As much as he wanted to join in on that, instead he leaned over to pick up the strap of his fallen guitar in his teeth, and follow them backstage.

Cracked Mug was waiting for them. He was the owner of the club, and certainly not sompony Riff was expecting to see.

“Well done fillies and colts, well done indeed. Would you come with me please? Don’t worry about your instruments, you can come back for them after.”

“Arrght therm.” Riff sat the guitar down and spat out the strap. “Where we going?”

“Oh just to a private space for you and your band to have dinner. That’s on the house tonight. You brought in so many ponies that it’s the least I can do. You’ll be happy to know that you practically doubled your pay from what they put in the donation jar. Oh and, I’d like to have you guys back sometime. Not right away of course, gotta keep things fresh, but mabye in a month or two.”

Well it’s about damn time somepony recognized us. After six months of absolutely nothing we finally have a good show.

That was all the incentive they needed to follow Cracked through a few back halls, and into a room set with six places, mugs and plates sumptuously filled. Well, save for one, which was all finished. A black earth pony stallion with a plain white mane sat in that chair, toying with his empty cider mug. Beside him was a very official looking briefcase.

It can’t be. Nonononoyesyesyesyes! Oh please don’t hope, in case it actually isn’t.

“And one other thing, my friend Ever Dark here wanted to meet you guys, and I figured I’d introduce you. Well, you all go ahead and chow down, and I’ll make sure the jar of bits is left with your stuff.” Cracked made room for them all to enter, then exited and shut the door behind as he left.

“So you’re Riff Runner? Have a seat.” Ever patted the chair right next to him. “And the rest of you too, go on. Dinner isn’t going to eat itself.”

No further prompting was needed, and the band seated themselves and started chowing down. Riff settled for a drink from his mug, which thankfully was the earth pony kind; with a large enough handle to fit a foreleg through.

“Yeah, I’m Riff, what can I do for you?”

“Well, you did some awfully nice playing tonight. Looked like you fellows were really into it. Not the happiest music, but if it can get ponies to call their friends to come see...it’s something special. You made Cracked there a lot of bits tonight. A lot. And I’m hopeful that you might be able to do the same for Aurora Lights Records.”

Holy shit it is. Try not to grin. Oh hay, lets just settle for not breaking down right now.

Ever opened the briefcase and passed a small mass of papers over to Riff, along with a pen.

“Ok I know you probably hate reading small print, so let me sum it up for you. Three records. One every two years, date fixed after you deliver the first one. You’ll make ten pieces on the bit for all sales, and we’ll cover all advertising, and make sure to set you up with concerts and such. Oh and, we’d be setting you up with recording equipment too.”

“Wait, only ten on the bit? That’s harsh.”

“That’s more than most bands on their third album make. I’m cutting you a fantastic deal here. So what do you say?”

It took only one quick look around the table to collect three nods and one blank stare. Shadow was very still, and paling slightly. That aside, Riff had all the confirmation he needed, and took the pen in his teeth to sign the contract.

“Excellent.” Ever took the paper and put it in his case. “I’ll be calling you tomorrow to start talking logistics, but for now I think you all deserve to enjoy your night. Take care.” Taking his briefcase in his teeth, the talent scout left the room, leaving the band to discuss this development, which they did immediately.

It was all Riff could do to get them to settle down enough to talk one at a time, even Kicks was in on the discussion. Shadow was still shoveling food down his throat, but that was all he had been doing since they entered the room. In the end, he just let them go at it, as he was every bit as happy as they were. It was the day their lives were all moving in a direction they had hoped for. The conversation ebbed from expectations for the future to going over that night’s performance, to the constant stream of new ideas for songs. The only one who didn’t weigh in on the discussion was Shadow.

Riff noticed this, and when they all said their farewells and headed out for the night, he stopped Shadow. It was probably due to the alcohol, the the late hour, and the sheer happiness Riff was feeling, but he had decided to hold out the hoof of friendship.

“Look Shadow, I’m sorry if what I said a couple of nights back came off as rough, but I just needed to make everything clear. No hard feelings, ok?”

“None at all.”

“I did have a question though. You didn’t seem nearly as cheerful about getting a record label as everypony else. I know you’re the kind that doesn’t show that easy, but is something eating you? What could possibly be wrong with this? It’s our chance to go big.”

“...Nothing.”

“You’re sure bro?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, if you’re sure, you’re sure. And for what it’s worth, we’re sure as Tartarus keeping you now. You’re one of us.”

“Well thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Riff hoofed Shadow on the upper foreleg, and hoofed over Shadow’s hat. The pegasus donned it, and the spread his wings wide. Riff barely had time to step back before Shadow barreled past at high speed, muttering something that sounded something like ‘shit’ but was lost in the noise of his wings.

Author's Note

Set one month after the end of chapter five.

Total change of pace here. For those of you who miss Spitfire, don't worry, she'll be back soon. For those of you who miss gunfire and violence, don't you worry. We'll get there soon enough.

Thank you Dizziestbeef for providing a healthy dose of reality check (I need to go there more often), and shameless editing.

I took a shameless moment to insert my OC and my girlfriend's (marefriend's?) OC at the start. That's us doing the barely bar-worthy rendition of what is a good country song, but was an amazing chance for me to listen to her sing for a while ;)

This one took longer than usual because I've got something very special for you all in chapter seven that I've been pouring a lot of heart and soul into (and many hours). See you all then.

What You Don't Say

Being a Wonderbolt is an honor. Make no mistake, you are joining a long legacy of truly great and amazing fliers. Defend that honor. You are its face. Should you shine, the Wonderbolts will continue to shine. Should you fall, so our reputation will too. Remember that you carry all of us with you. Remember that with pride. But never, ever let that pride rule you. You are still a pony, just like any of us.

-Spitfire

click. THWACK!

The door banged against the wall, and in strutted Spitfire, followed by most of her team in a motley mess. Half were still in their sweat soaked race uniforms, and most of them were sporting saddlebags filled to the brim with the means of decadence. It was going to be a night to remember, and it should be. They’d earned it.

Six weeks of tours. Six weeks! Races in Fillydelphia, Stalliongrad, Denspur, and almost every major metro point in Equestria. All victories. It was a hard time, but that’s what race season was. When the ponies of Equestria didn’t have a Gala, a Summer Sun Celebration, and all manner of other holidays to distract themselves with, the races provided entertainment, or at least most of it.

The rest came from the shows, and that’s where the international travel came in. Multi-national fame for the Wonderbolts came from traveling to Gryphemi, the dragon kingdom of Abalask, Saddle Arabia, the Zebra lands, and anywhere else they could rake in gold, in one form or another. It meant constant travel between countries, and constant exhaustion; the life they’d all pined for at some point or another.

The final obstacle before they could all rest was one final race, perhaps the king of all races, which of course was held in Canterlot. Half a million bits were at stake for the first place, and another half-million for the team placement. Go figure we take both. Spitfire had won. It was really that simple. Though Rainbow Dash was a close second. I’d better try a little harder, or that mare will be replacing me as captain soon.

All of that was inconsequential, the only reminder were her horrifically sore wings and back. They’d won, and it was time to relax. The ‘bolts made their way inside, and emptied the saddlebags on the kitchen counter and the coffee table in front of the TV. Popcorn, pizza rolls, caramel ‘n daisy bars, and all the junk food that could be fit into such a space spilled forth, but that was not what they really cared about. The prize of the night was the half-dozen bottles of Applejack Daniels--a certain apple brandy that was guaranteed to make the night fun along with a few dozen cans of assorted ciders and ales. It was going to be a hangover to remember.

Somepony turned the speakers on loud, food was passed around, bottles tossed from hoof to hoof, and the celebration began.

Spitfire could see the personalities underneath all the hard-working pegasi that flew for her most of the time, but they all really came out now. Skyline Spirit, Sidewinder, and Aces High all retreated into the the corner around a coffee table, soon followed by Rapidfire who had one bottle of applejack clutched in his teeth, and another balanced on a hoof. They were probably going to be plastered within the hour.

Twitch had grabbed a spot at the dining table as quickly as she could, and now she was taking up nearly a quarter of it with her laptop and a large mousepad. Deaf to the world through her headset, she was screaming obscenities to whatever unfortunate soul happened to be on her team. Anypony who offered her any form of alcohol while she was ‘in the zone’ was shooed off, on the account of it ‘making her worse at the game’.

Most of the rest of the team was scattered around the living room, splayed out on the furniture and the floor. Rainbow Dash and Soarin’ had taken one loveseat and were holding hooves. Whoa, must have missed that. I always knew Soarin’ was, but I never pegged Dash for the romantic type.

Those not otherwise engaged were holding an eager discussion about the last race, their Canterlot finale.

“I can’t believe Dash almost beat Spitfire! That was incredible!”

“Yeah, well you didn’t do too badly yourself Fleetfoot, I saw how you passed both that dragon and the griffon on the last straightaway. Made me go faster too.”

“Awww, thanks Buzz, that’s real sweet of you. I’m just a little bummed that we are going back to training soon enough. It won’t be quite the same.

“Yeah...it’s been different ever since the coach quit. But hey, tomorrow we’re leaving for that resort over in Gryphemi. Can’t say no to a weeklong vacation.”

Spitfire felt a lump in her throat. She hadn’t told them, and didn’t plan on it. In hopes of shifting the topic a bit, she drew attention to the white-coated gold-maned pegasus in the middle of the floor.

“What’s that plan for tonight Eagle Claw? You were saying you had something awesome for us to do when we got back?”

“Well,” responded Eagle as he used a pinion feather to turn the page on the channel guide. “Apparently a local band is doing a concert tonight, and it’s being broadcasted on one of these darned channels, if I can find it. I’ve heard them on the radio a few times, and they’re pretty good. Figure it would be fun to watch, and good background noise for everypony else.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang, and with the security instructed to only let approved ponies in, that could only mean one thing.

“Food!” The collective cry went up from the assembled ponies.

“Hey Fleetfoot,” called Spitfire. “Can you come gimme a hoof with this?”

The two ‘bolts made their way to the front door, and waiting on the other side was a pizza delivery pegasus, and a very full chariot behind him.

“Sp-Sp-Spitfire?! Uhm...hi! Your total is two hundred and thirty-two bits...and...can I have your autograph!?”

With a chuckle, Spitfire took out her bit purse and hoofed over eleven gold crowns, and twelve bits. A lot of money for sure, but she needed a lot of food for her hungry team, and it was but a drop in the bucket compared to what they’d made today. Once the delivery pony had his money, Spitfire took the offered pen and signed his book. It always gave her a bit of kick to see just how happy she could make somepony she’d never met before just by putting down her name.

With a wide smile, the delivery pony took the first stack of boxes off the chariot and set them on Fleetfoot’s back, causing her to sag a bit under the weight. Spitfire laughed until a similar weight landed on her, and the laughing was replaced with an *oof*.

They went back inside, and Spitfire was getting tired of holding up pizza on her sore back. She knew a way to fix that.

“COME AND GET IT!” she yelled. At her call, even those drinking themselves into a stupor came and relieved her of the boxes. Being the fastest and most agile ponies in the kingdom of Equestria wasn’t limited to the racetrack. It was mere seconds before both Spitfire and Fleetfoot only had one left between the two of them.

They settled down and began stuffing their faces just in time for Eagle Claw to find what he was looking for.

“Aha! Got it!” A few button pushes later, and the tail end of a government run anti-drug ad hit their senses.

“...and remember fillies and colts, don’t use horse. It really can ruin your life.” The commercial break ended, and they were all looking at a camera view of a multi-colored throng of ponies chattering amongst themselves as they waited before a darkened stage, in a venue Spitfire had seen before. It was one of the larger multipurpose theater/concert hall/event centers in the city. Into the view of the camera strode a well dressed earth pony with a small microphone hooked to his lapel.

“Welcome back, and good evening. This is Twenty-One-Sun news, and I’m your host, On Record. We’re bringing you continued coverage of the Aurora Lights ‘Up And Coming’ show, and I’d like to recap on the last group we just had on stage. Raging Equanimity was fascinating, though I doubt they’ll ever get the crowd to chant their name, too much of a mouthful. One thing's for sure though, they sure played some wicked guitar. We’ll have their band member interviews available for download tomorrow. Up next is ‘In Good Time’--”

“Woooooooooooooo!” cheered Eagle Claw.

“...and oddly enough they don’t claim any particular style, though I’m sure we’ll see one emerge eventually. Here with us for just a few minutes until they start is their guitarist and spokespony; Riff Runner. Say ‘hi’ to Canterlot, Riff.”

The camera panned and turned to show a midnight gray-blue unicorn stallion in a black jacket and sunglasses. His blonde mane and tail were long enough to be a total musicians cliche. He leaned over to speak cheerfully into the microphone that On Record was offering.

“Well hello!”

“Got anything you’d like to say?”

“Uhm, just that I’m excited beyond any reason to be here! This kind of thing is what I always dreamed I’d be doing!”

“Such is the energy of young stallions, and we hope to see that enthusiasm up on the stage in a few moments. Speaking of which, can you tell us anything of the upcoming show?”

“Sure. We’re playing some fan-favorites from our first full length, and two from the upcoming one.”

“Didn’t you just release an album three months back?”

“Yes, but I like staying productive. I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got to go.” Riff pointed off toward the stage, and Record nodded.

“Very well, we’ll be looking forward to it.”

While she waited for the actual show to start, Spitfire made sure she had ample supplies to avoid getting up in the middle. That meant a plate piled high with pizza, two bottles of cider, and one glass of apple brandy on the rocks. Fully armed, she plopped back down next to Fleetfoot, and started feeding her face.

A cheer went up from the crowd as several indiscernible pony-shapes moved out onto the darkened stage, two carrying guitars of sorts, one behind the drums, one behind the stacked keyboards, and one carrying nothing at all. The camerapony zoomed in such that the figures would be clearly visible once the now-warming-up lights came all the way on. The announcer boomed out over the cheering.

“Fillies and Gentlecolts; In Good Time!”

The lights came the rest of the way on, and Spitfire did a spit-take on her apple brandy. The burning in her lungs took her full attention until she managed to cough the offending liquid back out. The BUCK is he doing there? Why the Tartarus can’t you stay the buck out of my life!? About half of the ‘bolts were staring at her in concern, and those who weren’t were equally shocked.

“Wait, that’s Shadow! I...I had no idea...” stammered Eagle Claw.

On stage, Riff Runner had taken to the microphone to talk for a moment.

“Hey everypony! Just wanted to thank you all for coming out tonight to see us! This concert is a little special for us, and we wanted to wish our singer Shadow Wing, here a happy twenty-seventh birthday! And just because you know as well as we do it will make him squirm, and I know you all will enjoy it every bit as much as we will, can we all sing him happy birthday?”

A number of cheers went up, and as Riff led them, many hundreds of ponies began to sing the old foal-hood traditional song. Through it all, Shadow stood in front of the microphone, resolute, and staring into space. When it finally ended, he leaned over and spoke very plainly.

“Thank you.”

Most everypony in the crowd broke out laughing, as did some of the ‘bolts.

“Thanks folks, I’m sure we’ll make him smile one of these days! With that out of the way, on with the show!”

In order to sit still and keep calm, Spitfire poured the rest of her drink down her gullet as the band kicked up their first song. This time, it went down right, and the warmth that came with it helped ease some of the anxiety away. Still, it was only a matter of time before somepony asked her some sort of embarrassing question. To keep up the impression that she didn’t want to be bothered, she focused intently on the food and drink in front of her. That led to her very quickly getting up, and getting seconds.

Walking over to the table was slightly more difficult than usual with the alcohol worming its way into her system. More difficult still was reaching for more cider around Twitch who was still dead-to-the-world. Somewhere in between finding more bottles, and digging through the pizza boxes, Spitfire took a moment to look over her team.

Skyline Spirit, Sidewinder, Aces High, and Rapidfire were all drunk without any question, chatting with each other around the table in the corner. Eagle Claw was sitting very close to the television, staring intently and bobbing his head with the song that was playing. Most of the rest of the ‘bolts were similarly entranced. Most. For the life of me I can’t figure out why...sounds like a pretty generic angsty rock band. Oh look at you two. Rainbow Dash and Soarin’ were taking advantage of the distraction to quietly make out. Spitfire was content to watch them detachedly until a scream caused her to jump in fright.

“WELL IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT STAY THE BUCK OUT OF MY LANE YOU JERK!”

And Twitch will be Twitch...

Not wanting to stand at the table, Spitfire made her back to the sofa, nearly tripping over her own hooves. When she got back and sank into the seat, Tameless looked over at her.

“Hey Spits’...you ok there?”

“Oh yeah...haven't drunk too much yet.”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

Spitfire rolled her eyes.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine.”

“Well, if you say so.”

Spitfire grunted and proceeded to put another bottle in her muzzle. The conversation stayed dead for a few more minutes until the song ended, and the typical cheering ensued. Once it quieted down, Riff took to the microphone again.

“Ok, our second to last number for the night is a little special. Everything you’ve heard from us so far has been mostly composed by me, with a few by everypony else save for our singer. This one is called ‘Solus’, and it’s our first song by him.”

Riff pulled an acoustic guitar from a stand on the edge of the stage as the mare behind the keyboards led a simple opening melody. The guitar followed soon on until the every part joined in, with Shadow singing a solemn melody. It would have been moving, but with each line it seemed to spit in Spitfire’s face more and more. It really didn’t help that the ‘bolts kept turning one or two at a time to look at her.

Straight back, stand tall, he makes his way through the night,

Moon knows where he is going, but he has no clue,

The moon shows the world in gray black and blue,

Casts the way to a blurry uncertainty,

Yet confidence graces him profound.

He once loved you, he couldn’t say as much now,

Without ever hinting to you, it blossomed and died somehow,

He’s convinced himself that he’s just your friend,

And that’s how it’ll stay without mend,

Though he treats your more like a goddess in the end.

Alone and quiet in the dark he slips and drops to the ground,

Bloodied scraped and bruised, but not one broken bone,

Back on his hooves and dripping red, he continues on his way,

No reason or desire to show his pain and no want for sympathy.

Clouds cover the moon, and rain of hurt descends,

Blown into his face, by the chilling wind,

Lightning flickers in his eyes,

Just that quick the passion dies,

Promises of love, were nothing more than lies.

Alone and quiet in the dark he slips and drops to the ground,

Bloodied scraped and bruised, but not one broken bone,

Back on his hooves and dripping red, he continues on his way,

No reason or desire to show his pain and no want for sympathy.

Down that very same road, you once together did walk,

He smiled at your words, unsuspecting as you talked,

You led him down that darkened path,

Ready to loose all your wrath,

On that stallion who gave you everything he had.

There he lay in the dark, where you tripped and watched him fall,

Cut to make him bleed, and broke his heart in two,

You left him in that pool of blood, yes you left him there to die,

And as you walked away, all he did was wonder why.

As to when the dawn might come, he has no way to know,

It’s coming in some distant hour so along his way he goes,

He hopes and prays and weeps for that light,

For the time that it will come true,

Of when he will find, the one he thought was you.

Alone and quiet in the dark but he will not fall again,

Can’t tell if he wears a grimace or a grin,

Forward he goes into the night, bleeding for you no more,

Hungering for all the pain that life still has in store.

As the last chord faded away, all was deathly still. Within herself, Spitfire burned. He just insulted me. Publicly. In front of hundreds of ponies. Painting himself oh so innocent, and me as some sort of heartless monster. Why? Just Why? I thought I’d gotten rid of him when I fired him.

“Spits’. Look at me.”

Spitfire realized she’d been staring at the bottle clenched tightly in her hooves for a while now. Haltingly, she looked up to be faced with nearly a dozen stares. When nopony else said anything, Spitfire couldn’t take the silence.

“Well?!”

“Are you ok?” asked Fleetfoot hesitantly.

“What do you think!? Would you be ok right now if you were me?”

Fleetfoot drew a slow breath.

“No, I most certainly wouldn’t.”

“I never knew you two were an item...” stammered Endless Skies. “...but that considered...I’ve never heard of anypony being so...rude.”

“We never were together, and that’s what ticks me off. How does somepony get that much from a ‘no’?” Spitfire slowly got off the couch and stood up. “I have half a mind to go and put some sense into him.” She nodded slowly to herself. “Alright, well if I saw the TV right, they’re at the Waterway Theater, which is only a few minutes’ flight from here. Who’s coming with me?”

Fleetfoot, Double Dare, Endless Skies, and Valkyrie leapt to their hooves, some more nimbly than others.

“We’re with you, Cap,” volunteered Buzz. “Doesn’t matter who he is, that jerk needs to be civil.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Tameless moved to block Spitfire from leaving.

“Oh, and why not?”

“Because, the last time you got involved with him it went over poorly.”

“Well, talking to somepony isn’t illegal, now is it?”

“No, but you’ll be letting the booze talk for you. Hay, you are right now. Spits’...there is no way you’d be doing this sober. You shouldn’t even be going out for a walk in the state you’re in.”

“And you’re going to stop me?”

“No...but if you get in trouble, that’s your own deal.”

“Fine.”

With a firm push, Spitfire shoved Tameless out of the way, and headed out the door. As the first breath of cool evening air entered her lungs, tingles ran down her neck and legs, and vertigo clenched her tightly as the world seemed to spin. Damn, maybe Tameless was right, I’ve really had a lot to drink...nah. Lets do this. Together they spread their wings and took to the sky.

Cheers and the stomping of hooves on the floor followed as Riff strode backstage. The feeling was heady, and intoxicating. Cries of his name, the names of his friends echoed in his ears along with the applause. Forelegs waved in the air, and all the energy was focused on him. Full to the brim with that happy haze, Riff turned to give one last wave, and then blow a kiss to the crowd. This only served to make them cheer louder, stretching his smile wider as he finally exited. As much as he would have loved to stay longer, the next group was scheduled to start soon, and he had other plans for the evening.

Backstage was the prep room and a hall leading to the back of the building, where he and the rest of the band had stashed their stuff before performing. It was the storage room, housing several drum sets, piles of various electronics, most of the instruments of the other groups, and a huge mess of cables.

Sable and Vivace had already packed up their instruments, and they were waiting expectantly for Riff to do the same. Vivace was tapping a hindhoof impatiently on the floor. Double Kick and Shadow were waiting quietly by the door. He hasn’t left yet, good. As Riff levitated his guitars into their cases, he made the announcement.

“Well, Shadow, sorry I pulled that on you, but come on! It’s your birthday after all. And as such, we have a surprise for you--”

Sompony pounded a hoof on the door in quick succession, cutting Riff off mid-sentence. I thought we had security to keep the fan-fillies out of this area. Oh well, I suppose we can bring a few fans with us to dinner. I’m sure I could do with meeting one or two cute mares.

“Who is it?” called out Riff as he strode over to the door. The voice that answered was one that he’d heard from his television more than once before.

“The Wonderbolts! We’d like to talk to the band!”

Holy mother of Celestia! This is awesome! As Riff went to open the door, Shadow shoved a leg in front of his neck to stop him. Confused, Riff turned to Shadow to find him wide eyed and breathing quickly.

“I’m NOT here!” hissed Shadow quietly before silently lifting into the air and the diving out of sight behind the nearest pile of speakers and amplifiers. Whoa...I’ve never seen him act like this for real. I’m gonna have to ask him what the hay this is all about once they leave. Still, can’t let a bro down, and all the more attention for me.

The door yielded after a firm tug to reveal a yellow and orange pegasus mare, without the iconic flight suit she usually wore. She would have been a lot more charming had Riff not been able to smell the liquor coming off of her breath. Behind her were five other pegasi he recognized from various Wonderbolt posters.

“Hey!” greeted Riff.

“Hey!” replied Spitfire. “Can we come in?”

“Well, what do you want?”

“We just want to talk, is Shadow Wing here?”

“No, he left already. Dunno where he was headed.”

Spitfire’s eyes narrowed, and she pressed herself forward, filling the doorway.

“I’m calling ponyfeathers on that. You all ended your performance two minutes ago, and we’ve been out here the whole time. He hasn’t left yet. Now move aside, colt.”

Bitch.

“No. You may leave now,” answered Riff, all warmth gone from his voice. Ugh...if I ever make it real big, I’ll make a mental note to never act like such a l--the hoof collided with his muzzle, and the sudden pain caused him to lose his balance and fall to the floor. The second it took was longer than it should have been, and the ensuing shock from smacking into floor thoroughly winded the stallion. As he lay on the ground, ponies passed over his prone form, some stepping on him.

“Alright, where is he!?”

Those words rang around in Riff’s skull as he pulled his head up off the ground. Chaos greeted his gaze. Double Kick was trading blows with a white stallion almost as large as herself, while Sable was on his back, holding up his forelegs to protect his face from both his attackers. Vivace had just tackled her opponent to the ground, and was beating him mercilessly. Out of a desperate desire to save Sable, Riff shoved himself to standing.

“Oh I’d stay down if I were you, punk!”

Another mare who’d hung back outside bashed Riff across the muzzle and he fell back down, stars twinkling in his vision. Whoever it was jumped on and pinned him down, but before she could do more, she froze.

“Stop.”

It took a few moments for Riff to realize that it was Shadow who had spoken. Silence followed in the wake of his statement. The mare straddling Riff practically jumped off him and then held still. With a pained groan, he slowly got his hooves back on the ground and stood up.

In the middle of the room, Double Kick and the big pegasus were still going at it, forelegs locked together as they grappled. Wings splayed wide, Shadow walked over with deliberation and struck the Wonderbolt in the side of the head, causing him to slump and almost drag Double Kick to the ground with him as he fell unconscious.

“Still as thick as ever I see, Double Dare...” seethed Shadow as he rolled Double Dare off of Kicks, and offered her a hoof up. No sooner had she gotten up than did Spitfire march over to him and start yelling.

“What the Tartarus did you think you were doing?”

Shadow looked her straight in the eye and didn’t move an inch.

“He was needlessly fighting, as were you all, and didn’t stop when I told him to. He’ll be awake in half an hour.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!”

“Then what are you so angry about?”

“As if you don’t know.”

“No. I do not. That’s why I asked. I want to know why you came in here acting like a bunch of thugs.”

Spitfire inhaled sharply and began to rant.

“You were just out there spitting on my name in public! After all I did for you! I hired you to coach when you were nothing but a waiter, and put up with you even though you were antisocial and hard to work with. I worked around the weird schedule you had to because of your st-s-s-k-k-k-k--your crap! And you got it all wrong! We were never together you prick. You asked in the weirdest possible way, and I told you ‘no’. What are all these horseapples about you giving me everything you had?! You never did more than be my employee. So what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Are you done?”

“Answer me motherbucker!”

“Fine. That song wasn’t about you.”

Wait...what?

“Wait, what?”

“Did you ever once hear the name ‘Spitfire’ in it? No? That’s because it wasn’t about you. Are you seriously so conceited to think that you’re the only mare I’ve ever cared about?”

Shadow inhaled loudly, pure fury on his face. When he resumed speaking, he was nearly shouting.

“And here I still thought good of you! While I admit that it was a poor way to confess my feelings, it was all I had! I didn’t expect you to return them, after all, I’m a ‘monster’, right? Well, since you asked so nicely, that song is about a mare by the name of Sherry Berry. If you want more, you can go ask her. Now, I still held you in some esteem. I took you to be honest when you said you'd consider keeping me employed. Even after you ignored my calls and then blocked my number, I still held out a little hope. Looks like I was wrong.”

Whoa boy...just whoa.

The center of all attention, Spitfire was shaking, tears beginning to run from the corners of her eyes.

“I...I’m sorr--”

Shadow put a hoof to her lips to silence her.

“Monsters don’t deserve apologies. Now get out!”

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Spitfire held still for a moment before reaching over to grab Double Dare and heft him up with the help of two more of her team. They hightailed it out the door, this time giving Riff a good berth. The moment the sound of their hoof-falls had faded into the distance, Shadow let out a long sigh and sat down on the floor.

Ok, how the hell do I deal with this? Somepony has gotta tell him it’s gonna be ok when he thinks it really aint.

“Was that the surprise you had for me, Riff?”

So much for going gently about this.

“Oh hay no!” stammered Riff. “Look, Sable’s sister got us all reservations at Olive Grove for dinner, and we figured it would be nice to eat as a group. You know? Celebrate?”

“Yeah,” volunteered Sable, who was now sporting a collection of nicks and bruises along his face and forelegs. “Vinyl wanted to congratulate us on our success, and after a night like this, I’m sure we could all use a drink.”

“Ok.”

“What the buck was that all about?”

“Why the hay did they beat us up?”

“You never told us you knew the Wonderbolts!”

“You were seriously dating Spitfire?”

“Can you teach me to fight like that?”

“You know, you should write a song about her now!”

“Since when were you their coach!?”

The band walked down the cobblestones of the well-lit Canterlot street. Riff had tried at first to keep Sable and Vivace from overwhelming Shadow with questions, but soon gave up. The stallion clearly wanted to be left alone, but it wasn’t every day you got punched in the face by Spitfire.

“You saw. I don’t know. That’s correct. No. No. No, and you never did read the resume I gave you, did you?”

This nearly one-sided dialogue continued as they walked through the fading evening light. The ten minutes it took to arrive had only served to fray what patience both sides had. It was just as well that Riff spied the grove of olive trees just then. The namesake of the restaurant helped lend a pleasant atmosphere to its very plain exterior.

“Oh thank goodness!” blurted Riff, loud enough to cut of the rest of the conversation. “I’m starving. Come on and hurry up!” At his urging, everypony galloped up to the doors. At the noise, the receptionist looked up, eyes wide.

“Party of six, reserved under ‘Scratch’,” offered Riff apologetically.

“Uhm yes...right this way.”

Though busy, a large table was open in the back. Open, save for a unicorn anypony would know anywhere. She waved a cheery hoof in greeting before dive-tackling her little brother.

“Oof!”

“Awwww! My baby brother is growing up!”

“Gerrofme!”

“Oh okay, fine. You never were any fun.” Vinyl got up, and helped Sable to his hooves. “Wait, what happened to you? I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you that black eye just now. It looks like you got in a fight.”

“Well, that’s because I did.”

“With who? And why? You were supposed to be playing a concert, not trading punches. Did you at least win?”

They took their seats as Sable recounted their evening, from the prep, to the concert, to the fight, and ending with their walk here.”

“...and then I got here, and you tackle me to the floor in public as if we’re still foals,” finished Sable as the salads were passed around.

“So let me get this straight. A big, grown stallion like you got beat up by a bunch of fillies?” Vinyl hoofed Sable in the shoulder.

“Well, when you put it that way, it just sounds wrong,” pointed out Riff.

“You’re right. I’ve had my fun, and I’m honestly sorry that happened. I’ve met Spitfire before you know, and she never was that much of a hothead...tehehe, pardon the pun.” She turned to look at Shadow. “You must be quite the stallion to end a fight, let alone piss her off like that. Hmm...you look kind of cute.”

Shadow coughed violently until the slurry of lettuce and cucumber had left his windpipe. Once he had caught his breath, he responded a little more sedately.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. I know a few nice mares who might be interested in meeting you...but they can wait until we’ve talked a while.”

“That’s nice,” deadpanned Shadow, before returning his full attention to his salad. Vinyl stared at him expectantly for a few more seconds before coughing awkwardly into a hoof.

“So...” asked Riff hesitantly.

“So uh yeah!” followed Vinyl, every bit as eager to change the topic. “I just started on a new collab project...”

The conversation ebbed and flowed as the night wore on. Dinner was uneventful, save for Shadow chugging his down so fast that Vivace accused him of inhaling it. That moment aside, it passed in a haze of cheery conversation. Cheerful except for Shadow...I gotta fix this. He hasn’t so much as said a word since Vinyl hit on him.

When the bill finally showed up, Riff’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

“Two hundred bits?! But we just got dinner and a few drinks!”

“Oh hush you, I’m taking care of it.” Vinyl gave a mix of crowns and bits to the waitress, and then got to her hooves. “Well, it’s been great, but it’s a quarter ‘til ten, and my set starts at ten-thirty. Gotta run if I don’t wanna be late.”

“Awwww sis, you said you could spend tonight with us!”

“No, I said I could have dinner with you. But I’m not gonna leave you hanging.” She tossed a small pouch onto the table where it landed with a *clink*. “Should be more than enough bits for you all to have a good night at that bar across the street. Have a good one!”

“Sounds good to me, thanks!” called Sable as he waved farewell.

Sounds good to me too. A little whiskey and Shadow will perk right up. Help him forget long enough to get over it.

Needing no further prodding, they followed Vinyl to the door. As they went to cross the street, Shadow wordlessly turned to the left and started off on his own. Oh no you don’t. Riff bounded after him as quickly as he could on a very full stomach.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home.”

“Nuh-uh. Unless you have something drastically more important to do than ‘go mope by yourself’, you’re gonna come mope with friends, over drinks.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say, and they all lie.” Riff put a foreleg over Shadow’s back, causing the smaller stallion to jump at the touch. “Dude, come on now. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want you to relax and get all that off your back. We’re here for you, but you gotta trust us. Can you do that for us?”

Heaving a long sigh, Shadow reached up and pushed the leg off. Riff was expecting him to walk away, but Shadow turned to face him, and nodded slowly. Foregoing further words, they walked side by side towards the bar.

Neon green light splashed down upon them, proclaiming the building with flakey plaster and dirty windows to be ‘Top of the Firkin’. It was certainly sketchy, but from plenty of past experiences, Riff know such places tended to be a lot nicer than they looked. Upon pushing in the door, he was rewarded with a well-lit room, most of the homely wooden tables already taken up with boisterous customers sharing drinks and stories. It was clean, and very noisy.

“‘Bout time you got here! What took ya?”

Sable, Vivace, and Double Kick were already waiting on the bar stools, drinks in hoof. Sable motioned for Riff and Shadow to join them. They wasted no time planting their rumps on the stools. Curiosity demanded he check on what the other three were drinking, but Riff had no time to look before the barkeep appeared in front of him.

“Good evening, what can I get for you gentlecolts?”

“Oh, just what...” Riff craned his neck to see Sable holding a large mug of Haynickens in one hoof. “...he’s having.”

“Uhm...something strong,” offered Shadow.

“Well, I could get you a Manehatten Iced Tea like the mare down there has, or I can get you a menu.”

“No...nothing sweet.”

“Ok, well that cuts out most everything aside from shots or straight liquor in some form or another. Can I get you some some tequila, vodka, whiskey, Southern or Northern Braytish?”

Shadow rubbed his chin with a hoof for a moment.

“How about all four?”

Whoa boy.

“Ah, well that’s called ‘The Four Grim’, and if I may? That will taste a lot better if you separate each of them to individual shots.”

“Go for it,” offered Shadow, and then started to dig into his always-present worn out saddlebags. Once the bartender had left, Riff began to accost Shadow.

“What the hay are you thinking!?”

“You wanted me to.”

“Not like this! I figured you’d get something mild, and talk with us for a while. This is just going to hurt you worse.”

“If it bothers you, I can pay for it.”

“No, no, we’ve got enough bits, but you can’t start the night with four drinks! That’s going to mess you up.”

Shadow finished digging around and pulled and a small leg-band with a syringe on it. He had a bit of trouble getting it around the foreleg not covered by his watch, but soon it was affixed. One tap served to leave a little red light blinking on it.

“The point is to get messed up right? And do I really look like a lightweight to you?”

“Not really, but what is that thing?”

“Anti-alcohol auto-injector. If something big comes up, I get injected, and after thirty seconds of sheer agony I’m sober again. Don’t say I don’t care about you guys.”

“Something big? What have you got going on that would require you to kill your night out that fast?”

Shadow shrugged.

“Well then, if you’re not really gonna stay and talk, will you at least let me walk you back to your place afterwards?” begged Riff.

“Sure.”

Barring further conversation of the sort, the bartender returned with four shot glasses, and four liquor bottles in magical tow. He filled them each to the brim, three with shades of brown, and one clear. Next came a large-handle mug with Riff’s beer. Lastly, he set down a small glass filled with another clear liquid.

“I figured you’d be wanting some water with that,” offered the bartender. “I’m sorry really. That’s gonna hurt, boy...”

“Heh, thanks.” Shadow took the bit pouch and hoofed the barkeep his bits, then casually downed each of the shots one after another, neglecting the water until he had finished all four. He licked his lips, then got off the stool slowly.

Damnit, I don’t even get to finish my drink before he wants to go. I sure hope he’s in a talking mood on the way back. Chuckling at the ludicrousness of his own thoughts, Riff followed Shadow outside. There he found the older stallion sitting on his rump and taking deep breaths.

“Hit you hard, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well nothing for that now, lets get you home.”

By now the streets were dark wherever the odd magical lamp did not hold sway, and the air quiet. Situated halfway into the bad part of town, Shadow’s apartment was not a good place for a half-drunk pony to be walking through alone. Riff was still trying to find a way to break the awkward silence when Shadow did so for him.

“I’m sorry for lying to you by the way.”

“Huh, what?”

“When I told you I don’t drink.”

“Pfffft, don’t worry about it. Everypony has some sort of guilty pleasure to help himself get through the week. Mine’s those magazines you’ve probably seen at my place.”

Shadow shrugged.

“Well...mine’s a bottle of yak vodka I keep under the bed.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah...I have trouble sleeping some, well ok, most nights. The stuff helps me forget everything else and go to sleep, though I have the funny feeling tonight won’t be any better than usual.”

“Probably not. Do you mind me asking what the deal between you and Spitfire really was?”

“Not really. Well let me think...we met in flight school, and then again a few years after I finished college. She wanted me to coach for her team, and I accepted. I kind of always admired her, but seeing her strive for her goals with such passion was inspiring, and I fell for her. After a particularly hard day, I went ahead and told her...and I’m not good at these things--”

You can say that again.

“--but regardless, she said ‘no’, and I guess now I know she fired me. That’s really all there is to tell, aside from what you already saw today.”

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

“Maybe, but the circumstances were...extenuating. I don’t really blame her.”

“And after what happened tonight?”

“She was drinking, and I let my anger get the better of me. Not exactly her fault either.”

“That seems very kind of you on both accounts.”

“Not kind, just the logical conclusion.”

“You don’t exactly seem thrilled about it.”

At that statement, something in Shadow seemed to break. His head drooped, and his steps became haphazard. When he replied, it was in a much higher pitched voice, tripping on some of the words.

“No, I’m not, and that’s what I don’t understand. When I know in my mind that we will never be together, and understand that concept, it should bring a finality, and with that, peace of mind. Yet, it is as if some part of me yearns that it not be true. It hurts, as if there were fire burning me from within, burning for the hope that she might somehow, after all that has happened, accept me. It was the same way with Sherry. Months upon months of it. I missed somepony being there to hold me, telling me she cared when life fell apart around me. Riff, I wish I could just stop wanting her. It’s only making me hurt, and her hurt, without any good reason.”

Crud I’m not good at this! Here goes.

“Shadow, the heart doesn’t need a reason, and it can’t be forced to care or not care. It’s normal to want a mare to wrap you in her forelegs, even if it isn’t going to happen.”

“I suppose, but I hate not being able to understand myself.”

Around the corner lay a darkened mass of apartments, with barred windows, and many missing shingles. It was the cheap kind of housing that a starting musician would live in, and Riff himself had only just moved to a nicer neighborhood. At least he seems tough enough to make it here, so I guess he’s just saving bits on on housing. When they got to the door marked with a faded ‘17’, Shadow fished around in his saddlebags for the key, and fed it into the lock.

“Look, Shadow, before we part ways, you gotta promise me something.”

“That depends on what it is.”

“Don’t drink anymore tonight. And if you really can’t hold to that, don’t take any painkillers.”

This only served to elicit a chuckle from Shadow.

“Riff, I may be tired, tipsy, and lovesick, but I would never even think of killing myself. I appreciate the concern, but there are more ponies than you depending on me to be around.

“Well, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.”

The door shut behind Shadow, and Riff let out a sigh of relief. Ok, well, if he won't hurt himself, my job here is done. Here’s to hoping the other’s haven’t left yet. Turning tail, he trotted swiftly back the way he came.

Author's Note

About. Damn. Time.

I've had this ready for almost three months, and was just waiting on the song. Never having produced music before, let alone as a collab, it turned into a lot of work. The guitars are me, recorded, and the keyboard, bass, and ambient I all built. The drums are all by my buddy Miche from FOB Equestria, and I couldn't have done it without him. The vocals...are unfortunately by me as well. Our vocalist is too busy right now and I wanted to finish this story before my editor gets deployed to Antarctica (no joke on that).

Chapter Eight is almost all done too, so expect that in the next few days.

That You May Give Up

For whoever receives this letter after I die, you can remember me as Shadow. Seriously, don’t call me Hunter. I am that pony who lives on his own in the apartment at the end of the row. You'd find me working at anything else other than being a guard, but that is my life. What you don't know is that I fight the battles that keep Equestria safe, the battles that 'never happened'. I raise the glass, red with my own blood to the lips of those who hate our kind so that you may rest easy tonight.

They make every royal guard write a letter like this for his loved ones, something for the wives and foals to hold onto for the damned rare case that they die on duty. I don't have anypony to the give this letter to, but I'm writing it anyway to say that I wish I did. I've been shot, stabbed, had my wings and bones broken, and yet nothing I've ever endured can hurt like a mare. If I should die before there is one that I may give it to, I leave this note to my team to remember me by. A hail to Celestia and Luna, and I'll see all you mules in Tartarus one day.

Lieutenant Grade Six Shadow Wing
Timberwolf Team Deputy Commander
Equestrian Royal Guard

The Canterlot night was calm, a lonely hour at which streets were quiet and the city lay still. Even the poorer districts of the city, usually up late with the dregs of society conducting their crimes and illicit works were devoid of motion. Far above the sleepy rooftops, the crescent moon lay some ways past it's zenith, casting a cold gray light upon the row of apartments.

Inside, that moonlight spilled in the front windows, shedding light upon a small wooden coffee table. Placed haphazardly on top were a set of old and worn saddlebags, next to a glass bottle, three-quarters of a hoof less full than it had been a few hours before. In the silence, the clicking of a small clock nailed to the wall rang out, almost drowning out the faint sound of the slow intake and exhale of breath of the stallion sitting on the sofa by the table.

He held still, but his eyes betrayed his wakefulness, reflecting the moonlight. It was so easy to sit motionless, but so hard to fall asleep. Alone with his thoughts, acting like a statue would not have been out of the question, had the clock not struck two in the morning with a faint chime. At the sound, Shadow stirred faintly, then stretched wide, popping many vertebrae. Crud...how did it get this late?

Though his hooves were a bit unsteady under him, Shadow slowly slid down onto the carpet and forced himself to walk over to the kitchen. The lights were out, but it is a space well memorized within his tired and tipsy mind. After a moment or two, he found the sink, stuck his face under it, and turned on the cold water. For a few seconds, he allowed the flow to slick his hair and mane down, but soon starting drinking. And drinking. ...eighteen...nineteen..twenty swallows. Ought to be enough to make sure I don’t wake up super hung over…

As much as the water felt good, Shadow turned it off, and walked back over to the sofa. A moment’s indecision gripped him as his eyes found the bottle, but he put the cap back on it anyways. When Riff had told him not to drink anymore, Shadow knew that there was no way he’d live up to that. What he didn’t count on was how little more alcohol would help. When the demons of his past came up to haunt him, the sting of liquor would always wash it away long enough for him to fall asleep and confront them in nightmares, but not tonight.

Once Riff had said goodnight, Shadow had more or less immediately went back to his bedroom and dragged out the bottle, then plunked himself down on the sofa. He had figured he’d pass out on the sofa, and with his pager and antidote injector both securely on his forelegs, if something for the Timberwolves came up, he could deal with it. Unfortunately, nothing had come up to take his mind elsewhere. Nothing more important than deal with himself. Given four hours by himself with his bottle, all he could do was think. And think he did.

He thought of Sherry, and the times they shared together. How he met her in his third year of college, how he had fallen for her...hard. He’d never cared for a mare like that before in his life, and neither had any mare cared for him. How he shared everything about himself he could talk about, the hours he spent listening to her talk about her cares and woes. The night where they had gone for a walk up in the mountains, and she took him out onto a ledge in the moonlight. While he was taking in the view, she slipped a gold bracelet with a diamond on it onto his left foreleg...and how she later took it away. How it went away when he couldn’t find work in the music she loved so much, and put aside the muse for the armor of a guard.

He dwelt on the time spent in the guard, how it had become everything he didn’t want it to be. Just a job, in which his father, who was often working but five minutes from where his office was, never could spare time to visit. Polish the armor, put on a brave look for the most mundane efforts. Years of running the guard in the city and castle, while his contemporaries bragged of posts in the forts on the border, and hunting down criminals and vagabonds.

He recalled how one day after he insisted on seeing his father, who couldn’t possibly be constantly busy just as the records clerk. From Lieutenant Wing to Captain Skyward, demanding a meeting. How he’d been told to show up early one Friday morning, and his entire world got changed upside down as he was brought in for an indoc session with the secret unit his father was in charge of. How he passed, trained, and learned to be a killer. How he’d ‘left’ the guard to become a waiter...and his whole life changed. How his hooves became stained red as a salute to the deeds he lived with.

More painful still, he remembered how he met Spitfire again, the joy at meeting a pony who’d always held a treasured place in his mind. His new employment, easy hours and good pay for filling in the extra workout sessions that his father mandated the Timberwolves to do when they were not out in the field. That was all dust compared to spending time with Spitfire.

She’d always been so nice to him. Tried to pay him more, not knowing that he was being paid handsomely for his other job. Hazard combat pay and all that. She tried to always have him put up in a nice place to sleep, when after so many nights in the field, simply having somewhere dry to sleep was comfort, and a bed a luxury. She gave him a new desire in life, to help her team succeed, in hopes that she would be happy. It gave him something to do while he tried to find a way to explain his feelings to her. Feelings. Ugh.

He always had the hardest time with that, because he didn’t even understand his own feelings. If he couldn’t explain them to himself, how could he explain them to her? So many countless hours he’d spent trying to understand why he felt the way he did. If there wasn’t a good reason behind them, it seemed to Shadow like they shouldn’t exist, but logic be bucked, they did. If it was just her lithe body and beautiful mane, her fiery spirit and drive to succeed, her stern yet caring personality, if it were just one thing that grabbed his attention so, he could justify those feelings to himself.

Yet he’d met mares before that had those traits. By means of magic and time and effort, a mare could, honest to Celestia, make herself beautiful beyond compare if she so wanted, yet Spitfire barely bothered with more than making sure she had a clean workout uniform most days. Shadow had known mares in his basic guard training who had such a will to carry on that it could inspire anypony, no different from Spitfire. He’d been hit on by mares before, when he was still ‘in the guard,’ who had wanted to capture the attention of a stallion in armor making decent bits, but such attempts were easy to see and even easier to despise. For the life of him, he didn’t understand why she so captured his attention, and kept it despite every attempt to let her go.

It had all been a foalhood crush; one that really couldn’t be helped. He’d been so hungry, and his parents hadn’t given him anything to eat. The food was a simple gesture, but one that stayed with him over two decades later. He’d longed to see her, and was so foolish as to bring such things up. Life had gone from the frying pan to Tartarus...and then Dive had found him. Then his time became about everything else other than mares, and the only mare that had mattered was Dive’s wife, who he later came to know as Mama Wolf instead of Sure Splint. Later, after he’d joined up with the Timberwolves, he heard that the foalhood friend of his had achieved fame, and called her to congratulate, only to be dragged into coaching for her team.

There was no way he’d say no, especially when those old feelings had returned a hundredfold upon meeting her, though holding himself in check at the restaurant had taken all his self-restraint. That burden grew worse as time went on, as what was friendly affection grew into a crush. And into love? Whatever it had become, it wasn’t something he could deal with. Should he have been so lucky as for her to return his affections, there still would have been the issue of dealing with his constant disappearances and inability to explain them. So for a lack of a way to explain his feelings, and an inability to hold up a relationship, he kept those feelings to himself.

Kept them to himself, at least until she found out for herself. Shadow shook his head slowly, dizziness faintly numbing the feeling. That mission...was the worst first mission a deputy commander could have. Difficult rescue, lost my weapon, got shot, blew my cover, and pissed off my civilian job boss. Since that day, Dive had been out the the eight mission calls that they’d had. Every time, Shadow had been assigned as acting commander, and with the exception of that first one, they’d gone smoothly. They were getting closer and closer to finding the core elements of Rex Auguilares, but that success had not brought cheer with it. Neither had his success in his day job. If it can be called that. How the buck did I end up doing this? Right...because dad sent me out to do so, and it worked out too well.

In the end, it somehow cruelly brought him full circle with Spitfire. When he thought that he just might have gotten over her, she quite literally beat her way back into his life, only to snuff out his hope again. And yet I can’t stop thinking about her. Back to the start of ‘I don’t understand myself.’

That had covered the last three hours, but Shadow had never done well getting over anything without a plan. Looking as deep as he could into himself, he’d told himself to accept that he’d never be with her. It hurt, but it allowed him to ask of himself the question he needed to know that answer to. So what do I want, now that she is not an option? The answer had been...hard to swallow, but he couldn’t refute it. It was how he was going to live from now on, no matter how much it hurt.

Carrying a resolution on what to do, he could at least nod to himself that he’d done the best he could, even if that couldn’t get him to sleep. The liquor didn’t help either. With the thinking done, and the vodka nothing but a grim-tasting method of making himself hurt upon waking, he had little else to do than to sit and stare into the moonlight. Sunrise would be along in a few hours, and he’d do little. He had to go work out the next day, and that was it. Riff wouldn’t be needing him for anything, and Shadow had no plans.

Looking out through the window, he saw a figure approach his door. Far from alarmed, he simply held still. If it was a burglar, he’d tell him to get lost, and if the crook was stupid enough to pull a weapon, Shadow would beat him senseless. It would probably feel satisfying at this point. The figure drew closer. Oh wait...that’s dad. What is he doing here now of all times?

Rather than play the pointless game of waiting for the older pegasus to knock, Shadow got up and opened the door just in time for Dive to reach up to knock. If Dive was surprised, it didn’t show on his face.

“Didn’t think you’d still be up.” Dive stepped inside and shut the door, as Shadow sat back down on the sofa.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah, but I don’t approve of your drinking habit to help it,” noted Dive as he pointed at the bottle.

“Heh. That’s the one thing I have that could be considered a problem. Can’t be proud of me dad? I finished college, commissioned in the Guard, coached the Wonderbolts, became a killer, and am becoming a bucking rock star. I did that last one just for you, you know? I have more bits than I’d ever know what to do with, between the guard pay and this new job. I think I can justify going through a forty-bit bottle of liquor every month or two. Besides, it was a rough day.”

“I heard about that, and that’s why I’m here.” Dive sat down next to Shadow.

“Heard about what, exactly? And from who?”

“Just that my son is having some filly problems, and might need some fatherly advice, or at least somepony to talk to.”

“And you think you can help me...how?”

“Because I’ve been where you are before. I can’t say the circumstances were exactly the same...”

“I’d hope not.”

“...but honestly, just tell me what’s going on. Spit it out.”

Shadow looked askance at Dive, but only got a concerned stare in return. Ah buck it. Taking a deep breath, he launched into his rendition of the night’s events. He stopped at the point where Riff dropped him off at home, hoping Dive wouldn’t ask the obvious questions.

“...and once I got inside, I drank about a fifth of this bottle, and still can’t sleep.”

Dive rubbed his chin for a moment, and then did exactly what Shadow feared he would.

“Well you seem to be taking this an awful lot better than you did with Sherry. It makes me wonder what you’ve done to get over her so fast. I remember with Sherry, you poured yourself into your guard duties to the exclusion of all else, and it took you over a year to get past all that. Seeing as you’re holding together pretty well, I want to know how you did it.”

Shadow sighed and looked straight forward, and spat it out.

“I’m done trying to find happiness with mares.”

“What?”

“I can’t understand my own feelings toward them, let alone find a better way to share them than to awkwardly vomit out what is on my mind. I have nothing loving or caring enough to offer them that they might still want me, and live a damned double secret life that constantly will have me gone, and perhaps coming home in a body bag. I can’t give them that, and I can’t ask for such happiness for myself. You warned me when I started on this path, remember? How I’d have to give up most everything for Equestria. So that’s what I’ve decided I want most, a noble death for her. I don’t even need to be remembered, because we both know that’s not going to happen, but at least let me--”

“Shadow, I know it hurts, but this is not the answer. You can’t give up hope on this so easily.”

“Why not? It’s not as if it’s ever going to work. I’ve got nothing going for me.”

“Nothing? It seems you have a good physical form,” said Dive, poking Shadow in various muscles. “...a mostly intelligent head on your shoulders, a lot of bits you’ve never spent waiting around in your bank account, and now a popular name to boot. The only thing you don’t have going for you is social experience, and you can get that. Giving up yourself as dead already is no better than suicide, and if you seriously are thinking like that, I’m taking away your vodka.”

Shadow gave a quiet chuckle at this, but then pressed on.

“Seriously though, how the hay do you and mom do it? It’s not like you somehow have more spare time on your hooves than I do.”

Dive pondered the question for a few moments.

“Well granted it helps a lot that she not only knows what I do, but works with us...but we got together before Celestia asked me to take charge of a new unit for her. Back when I really was just the clerk, and she was just a nurse. And it never was easy. We both had to work at it. We fought, and made up, and eventually one day found ourselves married for it. Needless to say, that doesn’t answer your problem, but what will is that she was the fifth mare I seriously dated. To this day, I think you’ve been in one relationship. So keep trying. And you know as well as I do that we’re a matter of months away from finishing off Rex Auguilares...and then who knows, but odds are we get a lot more time for ourselves.”

Shadow nodded slowly.

“So you gonna perk up and keep trying for me? You know if you start giving up on life I’ll just make Crash pt you until you scream for Chaff to play matchmaker for you.”

“Oh...” Shadow laughed. “Sure, count me as still trying Captain Skyward.”

“Don’t you get formal on me. Not here, not now. Though, you can’t call me captain anymore.”

“Wait, what?”

In answer, Dive hoofed Shadow a small pouch. Inside, Shadow found a sets of insignia in the shape of a crescent moon. No way!

“Congratulations Captain Shadow Wing.”

“Wait, what does that make you then?”

“Well...after spending...ten years as the captain in the records office, Princess Luna has seen fit to ‘give me a chance at something better’ and set me up as the new head of intelligence, since Colonel Argent is retiring.” Dive grinned at his own joke.

“So, who’s going to command the Timberwolves?”

“You, of course.”

Shadow started to cough.

“But I don’t have the experience for that! I’m just being put in charge like that?”

“Oh come off it and think, I know you’re not that sloshed. There’s been a reason why I couldn’t go on mission with you guys time and time again. Each of those times you were the commander, even if it was just acting commander. Well guess what? You were completely in charge, without the pressure on your shoulders for it. You’ve already been doing the job of a captain for a while now, so Princess Luna and I agreed it would be good to just go ahead and give you the rank and the pay grade to go with it. “And you’re gonna be wanting a new guy for your team. I’ve found the perfect new recruit already, and I’ll let you do the honors of his indoc, but if you need help with how to train him, feel free to let me know.”

“Uhm...uh yeah, I will.”

“Alrighty, well that takes care of everything, except mom wants you to come visit soon.”

“Like she doesn’t see me enough already?”

“She sees soldier you, not ‘little colt she got to raise’ you. Help her, come visit us, eat the cookies she makes you, and have a good time. That’s all she wants.”

“Oh alright. Thanks dad, for everything.”

“No problem, now get some sleep, you look like you need it.”

“Mhmm.”

Dive got up, shutting the door behind him, leaving Shadow much the same way as he was found: sitting on the sofa, staring into the moonlight. After a few moments, he let out a sigh, got up, and grabbed his saddlebags and bottle and went down the hall to his bedroom. The door opened to show a space as equally un-decorated as the living room. Each of the walls was bare, and the only piece of furniture was a twin bed, which Shadow promptly tucked the bottle under.

Normally the saddlebags would go in the closet, something about keeping all kinds of classified military tech secret, but Shadow seriously doubted it was much safer in the closet than under his bed. With a shrug he tossed them under his bed before throwing himself on top of it.

Though his eyelids remained open to stare at the ceiling, for the first time that night they were heavy, begging sleep for his tired body. Well it worked, I’m finally sleepy. Captain Shadow Wing...I like the sound of that. Now to close my eyes for just a moment…

EepEepEepEep.

Wires. He rifled through the bunch looking for...where the buck is it!? Red with blue dashes...red with blue dashes...sweet Celestia yes!

The beeping grew louder as Shadow bit down hard on the wire and pulled. One sharp twist of the neck, and it broke free; the copper wire splaying out from the break in the coating. Beside the severed end of the wire, the countdown remained on 00:00:21 for another half-second, before continuing.

EepEepEepEep.

“It didn’t work!” howled Shadow.

“Horseapples!” came Dive’s reply over the helmet comms. “Get out of there, Shadow!”

Turning back, the room seemed much bigger. The window he’d come in through, and the only quick exit was a dozen lengths away, shards of glass littering the carpet in a trail to where he stood. There is still time.

“I can still disarm it! Conventionally!” Shadow kept his gaze over his shoulder long enough to line up the most powerful buck his hind legs could give, and ram it it the metal cylinder the panel was build into. CLANG! The steel of his guard’s shoes echoed against the hollow tube. It didn’t feel as if it gave. Recovering, Shadow looked back in horror to see that it wasn’t even dented.

“You get your rump out of there now! That’s a bucking order!”

“No! I can stop it!”

Shadow bucked the steel again, and again. Pain ran up his legs and diffused through his joints, and the hammering of steel meeting steel rang in his ears. Through the pain and the clamor, one noise still held steady.

Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep.

Hindlegs shaking, gasping for air, and covered in sweat, Shadow awoke to the sound of his foreleg pager beeping at him. One tap served to silence the darn thing, so his racing heart could slow down enough to read the display. The backlight offered only the slightest modicum of green glow in the sunlight coming through the window.

13:42:53

Incoming Call

Riff Runner

“Mmmrrrghhh...” groaned Shadow, sliding off his bed and digging the skyphone out from his saddlebags. “Hello?”

“Hey Shadow! It’s me, Riff. How you doing?”

“Fine, just fine.”

“Not too hungover?”

His head wasn’t aching, but his mouth tasted like rot and pains of either hunger or a stomachache clenched his belly.

“No, not entirely, but I could be better.”

“Well, just good to hear that you’re still kicking. That and wanted to let you know that we’re taking the next few days off. The split on that gig was a few hundred bits each, and Sable and Viv’ got seriously wasted last night. Probably won’t be up for anything for a little while. Found them both at her place...I don’t want to judge, but you bet I’m judging.”

“Heh, it would figure. Well thanks for the heads up.”

“No problem, take care Shadow.”

Growling echoed through the room as Shadow hung up. His body wanted food and water pretty badly, judging by the dry throat and painful stomach. Both would be easier to get in the kitchen. The contents of the refrigerator and cabinets hadn’t changed much in the last few months, but that didn’t stop him from opening up each one several times in a row in hopes that somehow, one of the packages within would strike his fancy. After three laps around the kitchen, nothing seemed any more appetizing than when he had started.

For lack of any results, Shadow stuck his face under the faucet again. Cool water fell slaked his thirst and eased the aching in his stomach. Now sated, it was time to hit the gym.

Today was leg day. It went ‘leg-wing-cardio-leg-wing-cardio-rest’, at least when he didn’t get called off on mission. It was something he wanted just as much for himself, as pumping iron gave him something to do other than dwell on the past, but now he had the motivation of making sure he was the best in shape to lead by example.

Before heading out the door, there were a few things to take care of. Check to see that the arcane stream battery in the pager was still in the green. Fill a water bottle and grab the gym bag. Spray on a bit of deodorant in hopes that nopony would notice his lack of shower. All ready--no, wait. Shadow bit down on the anti-alcohol injector, and set it on the coffee table. Ok, lets do this.

Two hours later, hide matted with sweat, and a faint smile on his face, Shadow pushed his front door open. It was a day of much lifting, and absolutely zero interaction with anypony else at the gym. One look at him, and the few other regulars just went back to their reps.

There was one surefire way to tell if it had been a good workout, and that was a shower. If he had trouble lifting his forelegs up far enough to reach the bar of soap, it was good. It also made the normally two minute shower take just a bit longer, but he had plenty of time. This was one of those days where there was both nothing to do, and he wanted to do nothing. So, Shadow sat on his rump under the steam of hot water and let it steam through his mane Not that there was much mane to experience that sensation with, but he enjoyed it for a while. His stomach had other plans though, and eventually forced him back into the kitchen to make a large pot of pasta and a protein shake.

Over dinner, he paged through the latest intelligence report on his datapad. No change in relations with foreign diplomats, no armed incidents of any kind, two new weapons designs that Ray wanted field tested, and a bio on the candidate for Timberwolf Team.

Sergeant Sky Rover...hmm...looks like a freaking show-off to me. The tall and wiry pegasus stallion in the picture was giving a brilliant smile to the camera. His black mane had been buzzed to a fine stubble, showing the brown coat underneath. On his ribbon rack were perhaps as many colors as Shadow would wear, should he ever find an occasion to wear a dress uniform. Ah well, we’ll see what he’s made of soon enough.

Reports due...pay statements...exhaustion followed quickly on the heels of the paperwork. That was Shadow’s cue to put away the dishes and plop himself in bed. The forms would still be there in the morning.

Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep. Eep.

Wakefulness came swiftly, the chains of unconsciousness falling quickly under the force of two nights of good sleep. Shadow sat up and looked at his pager. Words all too familiar ran across the front:

03:27:02

Incoming Call

Elder-Urgent

Adrenaline coursed through his limbs, propelling his form out of bed, to grab his saddlebags, and rip out the phone. “I’m up, and one my way.”

“Good, get here fast.”

The call was cut, and bags hastily thrown over his back. Only pausing to shut and lock his door, the short pegasus quickly took off into the night. Cool night air rushed over his face as his wings furiously drove him higher into the dark, high enough that anypony on the ground could not see. Oh goodness...my first one in charge. I hope this doesn’t turn out to be anything too crazy. Elder was the callsign of the head of intelligence, and the pony who was in charge tasking Timberwolf team in both planned and emergency operations. This one was certainly not the former.

After what Shadow guessed was about four thousand hooves in the air, he eased off the climb and turned toward Mount Eternity. Below him lay the upper spires of Canterlot Castle, and forward the sheer cliff face. Pulling back into a near vertical climb, his wingtips nearly brushed the rock as he went past. It was only by flying so close to the mountain that the overhang halfway up would be apparent, and even then for one who had been there before.

His head passed harmlessly through the illusion of rock, leaving him inside a small cave on the other side. The only feature was a circular pad large enough for a half-dozen ponies in gear, in the shape of the same pentacle several thousand hooves below. It was meant to save time in the case that they were in a hurry, and couldn’t be bothered to walk all the way to the entrance in the lower passages of the castle. Like right now! Shadow ran over to the pad, and blinked his eyes.

Upon opening them again, the walls of the teleportation chamber shone all around him. Wasting no time to admire the spellwork, Shadow bolted down the hall to where the gear lockers were. The one on the far left had the name HUNTER written with black marker on a strip of duct tape stuck on the locker. Somepony had torn off the new moon and six stars underneath the name, and replaced them with a crescent moon. He’d find out who and thank them later. For now he settled on putting on his combat skin and guard’s shoes as fast as possible. The helmet could wait until after the briefing.

In the briefing room, Crash and Savage were already waiting, suited up and with weapons on the tables in front of them. Standing up at of the front of the room beside a bank of monitors stood Dive and the former Colonel Argent Fire. The aging red and orange earth pony was yielding to gray, but his eyes bespoke seriousness. Shadow wasted no time taking his place next to Crash, who was now wearing the new moons of a lieutenant.

“Where’s Chaff?” demanded Shadow of everypony present.

“Should be here in the next minute or two. We’re gonna hold off filling you in until you’re all here.” Dive checked the clock again, while Argent milled about, staring at his datapad.

“Right.” Making use of that minute would have been a lot better than pretending to be busy, but all they were in need of was a location, and something to shoot. The wait always seemed to take longer when everypony was running on a cocktail of nervousness and adrenaline, but in reality it took two minutes for Chaff to bound into the room and slide in front of the table.

“Ok, thanks for getting here gentlecolts. We have another hostage situation. Same bad guys, different locale, multiple hostages.” Dive gave the briefing while Argent pulled up several maps on the screens. Pointing at the first screen, displaying a large compound, he continued. “At about 2300 last night, Rex Augilares broke into the ‘Bird’s Eye View’ resort here, forty miles northeast of Alsborough. We have only limited security footage, but it was clear this was a premeditated attack.” On screen, the dimly lit front entrance to the resort came into view. Griffons in black, bearing rifles, streaked over the walls.

“Lucky for us, we do have a good idea of where they are being held.” Argent pulled up another image, this one a daytime still-shot of a stone fortress built into the side of a mountain. “This is Redoubt Shatterclaw. Left un-garrisoned by the current government, but our contacts say that it has recently become active again, without permission. This leads us to believe that Rex Augilares has taken it for their own purposes. Their ambassador did give us schematics, and those will be uploaded to your helmets.” He paused for a moment before continuing, a faint smile now ghosting his lips. A new view of the fortress appeared onscreen, this one at night, with several familiar gold and red banners gently swaying in the wind. “But we’ve got one more thing. Ray got the Sky-View systems online.”

That was news indeed. Refract Ray had been working on something he called a ‘satellite’ or such, a hunk of metal with all sorts of cameras on it ever since the new altitude records came out. He’d made the Timberwolves fly up to the edge of the atmosphere and release the objects, which by some nefarious magic just hung there. They were supposed to give video feeds of large tracts of land, by due to some error they had never worked.

“...and so we have a live feed for you of the scene, force estimates, and we’ll be able to track from one more angle on top of your helmet cams from back here at base. So you know, the force holding the structure is not one that you want to be engaging in an open firefight. From what we’ve seen moving around, we place the enemy forces in the area between one and two hundred. As such, we’re recommending you use one of two strategies.”

Lines appeared on the screen, indicating a path through the fortress as the camera panned to get a better view on it.

“Follow these routes to evade what patrols we’ve seen so far, and you can likely get to the room we suspect the hostages are being kept. Option two...notice how that room is right by the outside wall? You can try breaching it if need be, but considering just how much noise you’ll make, plus that potential for harming the hostages makes it a very risky option. All the hostages are pegasi, so once you get them released, you can most likely make a very easy break for it. Captain?”

“We’ll go with the stealth option,” answered Shadow. “Crash, make sure to carry those breach charges just in case we have to go to a plan B. Sir, just how many hostages are we trying to extract?”

“Uhm...at least a dozen, maybe as many as twice that.”

Shadow winced.

“That’s going to be darn difficult to get out unnoticed with that many bodies in tow. And what if they are not all in great condition? I can’t imagine the griffons treated them very nicely. If more than a few have broken wings, we wouldn’t be able to carry all of them out of there.”

“You are correct. In light of that, we are rushing to get Second Cavalry unit armed and ready as we speak right now. We’ll have the unicorns put on sky chariots, and the whole unit will be assaulting the redoubt within two hours. That being said, if you can evac the hostages without being noticed by the regulars, do so. We don’t need another PR nightmare.”

“Yes sir. Also on the note of the hostages, do we have a positive ID on any of them? I’d like to know who we’re looking for.”

Dive bowed his head slowly as Argent nodded.

“We do indeed.”

A range of ID cards zoomed into focus, and Shadow gasped. Staring right at him were the smiling faces of the Wonderbolts. Spitfire and Soarin’, Twitch and Buzz, Tameless, Rapidfire, Double Dare, Rainbow Dash and Eagle Claw, Valkyrie, Sidewinder, Falcon Cry, Skyline Spirit, and Endless Skies. All now being held with their lives at ransom. It would probably be later that day, or perhaps tomorrow that a video would show up on the magicnet with Equestria’s favorite racers and aerial performers bound to chairs, knives at their throats and gun barrels pressed against their heads, while a masked griffon would read a list of demands.

As his gaze passed over one of the pictures in particular, a wall of raging emotion threatened to shut him down right then and there. She almost deserves this, after what she’s done. No! You swore on your own life and blood to fight when things like this happen! It doesn’t matter who she is. No...it does matter. Maybe she’ll change her mind if I can save her!? Why does this have to happen to me! Isn’t it enough to get shot at for a living!?

“Captain, is there a problem?” asked Argent. Dive continued to stare at the floor.

Oh Tartarus. Time to lock all that down, and make them pay for what they’ve done.

“No. Sir.” Shadow paused then addressed his team. “Timberwolves, get your rumps to the teleportation chamber! I want you geared and ready to leave in two moons! MOVE IT!”

Hooves pounded on the concrete floor as they raced out of the room. Shadow was hard on their tails when Dive reached out to stop him. Oh what now!?

“Hang on there colt, I know you’re not thrilled about what you gotta do, but you know just how important this is.”

“My opinion of or personal relation with the hostages is of no concern to any mission priorities. All that matters is getting them out alive. Everything else is secondary.”

Dive nodded his approval. “And when you do get them out, even if it doesn’t wind up how you’d like it to be, take care not to lose yourself again.” The two shared a glance for just a moment before Shadow bolted off down the hall after his stallions.

Author's Note

And here is the other one that was collecting dust in my gdocs. This is the last bridge chapter before everything really picks up again (hang onto your tails).

My thanks to Dizziestbeef for his remarkably targeted editing.

Your Tribulation

A/N: 1 hoof = 4 inches, or ~9.7 cm.

Here I, Shadow Wing, solemnly swear, by my life, my blood, and my immortal soul that I will serve, before myself, the citizens of Equestria until my dying breath, or until I am released from this obligation. I take this burden not only willfully, but with ardent joy, a thirst to do what is right, no matter the consequence to myself. I will give every part of myself to this service. My time, my pain, my tears, my blood, and my life if called upon.

I will treat my team as my brothers. The Timberwolves are now my kin, and I theirs, by our mutual shedding of blood. I will take care of my brothers. Nothing asked of me is too small or too petty, because nothing is too much or too terrible to ask of them. I will fight beside my brothers. While we stand together, death does not exist for us. I will kill with my brothers. Our foes do not fear the Timberwolf, but the wild within.

No power from Tartarus below, nor grace from Elysium above will stop me from delivering death and destruction to those who would harm my country, or prevent me from enduring hardship to protect it. I put aside any hesitancy, forget all fear, and cast out any weakness in favor of determination, courage, and strength. May I never forget my duty and honor, so help me sun, moon, and stars above.

-Lieutenant Grade Two Shadow Wing, Oath of Entry: Timberwolf Team

The dead of night was cold. Darkness prevented any hope of sunlight’s warmth from reaching down to embrace her subjects. Also devoid of heat were the vast reaches of the upper atmosphere. Too thin to hold up all but the strongest wings, aided by magic. Far below, the vast storm that had reigned for the duration of the flight was beginning to break up.

“Target ahead, one hundred-ninety miles. Begin deceleration. Four moons til descent.”

Three affirmations popped up in his helmet display, leading his eyes over to a few indicators for just how far out of place he was.

04:09:17

Altitude: 247, 192

Boom x 2.03

Buck. Me. It’s cold up here. Three hundred and twenty thousand hooves. There was barely any air left up here. Nothing else to stand in their way. At this altitude, the only reason for their survival was the combat skins that Refract Ray had made them. That black mix of pressure suit, camouflage, and magical body armor coated his body, sealed with a helmet bearing communications, night vision, a heads-up-display, and still more tech than Shadow could have ever thought to include. Guess that’s why I’m out here...to use it.

All around him, the thin air streaked along, harshly whining about how he shouldn’t be there. Nopony should. No pegasus had made it this far up without the aid of magic. Death by freezing, asphyxiation, and falling would soon follow. But this morning, Shadow knew he was to be bringing death-his own could wait until after the mission was done. In his view, three markers showed where Crash, Chaff, and Savage were flying in formation, a few hundred lengths in each direction to prevent the vortexes in the rare air from throwing of each other’s flight patterns. There were just markers, and even with night vision, the silver light of the moon was not nearly enough to pick out one of the operatives when they had their camouflage activated. Yet they were there, two to the left, and one to the right.

Below, the vast forests and mountains of Gryphemi were spread out like a map as they continued to slow down. Rivers and lakes gleamed under the stars, and a black void filled where the high plains, the forests and the mountains lay. He knew them well from many nights spent suspended over their vast sights, and many sunrises spent flying home. Far below, Redoubt Shatterclaw lay, the fourth red diamond on his display. It was quickly moving to be directly underneath him, and his airspeed had dropped below supersonic over a minute back. Time to go.

“Break form; free fall. Don’t go supersonic.”

“Sir.” Each voiced sounded in unison as they slowed their frantic flapping and sank until gravity overtook the forward motion completely and they fell. Face first, staring into the rush of wind parted by their visors they fell, wings arched to control the descent. The earth pulled them into its mighty embrace, as inevitable as the dawn. Faster and faster they fell, until the air would not let them fall any swifter. In that they way they fell, silent.

Shadow could only guess what his team was thinking on the flight down. Though they confided everything in one another, it was too difficult to know the mind of another before peril. What he knew is that they would do their best no matter what. As will I. But I can’t believe I’m doing this. Was it ever too much to ask the world just to be left alone? I guess so! Tempting it just once was one time too many. I don’t understand why all those stallions have mares practically hanging off their necks without ever having done anything for them. Here I worked my tail off for her for almost two years! And the only thanks I ever got for that and sparing them prison was being thrown out on my rump. Then she comes back, beats up what few friends I have, and reminds me of just how bucked up everything in my life is. And now I have to save her. Never should have tempted fate…this time, when she tries to talk to me afterwards, I’ll just seal up my damn visor and pretend like she isn’t there. Then it can’t hurt anymore than it already does...I hope. FOR FUCK’S SAKE! Why can’t I stop thinking about this? I can worry about whatever else after they’re safe.

It was all he could do to resist the temptation to shake his head in frustration; doing so could have thrown him well off course. There wasn’t anything else to focus on the entire way down, so Shadow ran the schematics of the fortress in front of his eyes again, for the fourth time that flight. There was never a such thing as too well prepared, provided there was room to improvise if things went wrong. Such thoughts ran around again and again in his mind, an ordered chaos of frenzied planning for every last contingency until the air grew thick again. Not warm, but at least it had substance.

“Thirty thousand hooves to target. Begin slow at ten-thousand.” Three acknowledgements flashed onto his helmet display, and they continued to fall. Gradually, the fortress came into view, exactly the same as the images Refract Ray had given them. The structure was built like a giant trapezoid, with the long end burrowed into the mountain. High walls ended into the sheer face of the cliff. Now, Shadow saw it clear as daylight through the lens of the night-vision spell built into his helmet. The latest upgrade allowed it to be in full color, rather than the dull green it used to be. Even as his eyes moved to track the sentries on the corner towers, red outlines took form around them, flagging them as hostiles. There were two on each tower, making for eight guards. Paltry.

With a flicker of thought, a section of the helmet visor zoomed forward and focused on the two on the north tower, then in turn to each of the other sites. It was an encouraging sight. Expressions of boredom and exhaustion were prevalent; none were alert and watching. Of the two on the southernmost tower, one was smoking, and the other looked by be playing some kind of game on a datapad. Not one of them had a rifle at the ready or was checking the inside of their own fortress. The only one with a pair of binoculars wasn’t even using them.

“Lets avoid taking them out if we can. Shoot only if they discover us.” The acknowledgements came again. As the rapidly spinning numbers in the altimeter slipped past ten thousand, they spread their wings as one, spreading out to hover in a wide circle. “Get the gear out. Quietly.”

The pegasi drew an assortment of pistols, rifles, shotguns, blades, and explosives from their saddlebags, quietly racking rounds and removing safeties before clipping and tying on their weapons. As each tool of death became one with its wielder, it too faded from view. Extra magazines went into gripped slots for quick access, almost begging for a chance to be used. Shadow tied on his knife, and then pulled out his newest piece of gear. Something halfway between the pistol he once carried and a cut-down version of the assault rifles that Chaff and Crash carried. It fired rounds almost as big and kicked just as hard, but fit on his foreleg without impeding movement too much, and it had saved his life more than once. No sniper rifle this time, as it would be almost all close quarters. “All good? Alright, move up.”

The walls passed below as they glided into onto the abandoned parade ground, landing like wraiths up near the far wall. The entire structure, at least the parts of it that were not contained within the mountain, were made of the same dull yellow stone that made up the surrounding cliffs. Three walls surrounded a spacious parade ground, and the rest of the fortress was built solidly into the mountain. Trees lined the space, suggesting it used to be used as a courtyard when still occupied. Over by the barracks door, a mass of stones and masonry tools were present, perhaps for building an outside structure. A few dozen barrels with open tops adorned the open section of the grounds to catch rain water. No gate was built into the walls, and no path lead up to the fortress. It was the territory of those who had wings.

Looking down, Shadow almost cursed as he saw the indents his guard’s shoes left on the cold, muddy ground. It was then the guard taking a smoke stretched his wings, and stood up. Within a heartbeat, weapons were trained on him and his partner, still fiddling with the datapad. Slowly, the griffon flicked the cigarette butt away, to fall many thousands of hooves to the plain below, and sat back down, drawing his coat tightly around himself. Everypony relaxed, but stayed trained on the guards as Shadow checked their entrance.

There was a grand door in the mountain wall, a dozen lengths tall and wide, curving up to a point at the top. Rusted iron reinforcing sheets and studs ran along it’s breadth, and two narrow iron bands had been nailed to the the doors where the centerline ran down from the top point. They were for creatures with claws; far too narrow to fit a hoof through. That wasn’t a problem, as Shadow could think of no noisier way to get inside short of blasting through the wall. There were however, several smaller doors at the base of the towers and to the side of the main entrance, and once they were inside, they could get anywhere. The one they landed by was at the south end, in the corner. It was the entrance to the old kitchens, which were supposedly unused ever since the Gryphemi monarchy stopped using the redoubt.

This door too sported a handle unusable for ponies, or at least those who couldn't think of a more clever way to get in. Slowly, Shadow tightly wrapped his foreleg around the hilt of his knife, and drew it free. Inserting it into the handle, he pulled back, only to find that the hinges were well rusted, and would not yield for such weak effort. They had suspected this would be the case. Time to field test one more toy Refract Ray had left them with.

“Ok Crash, I need you.” Crash slung his rifle, and sat down to get a small case out of his bags. Inside were a few dozen small black chips, humming faintly, and a remote detonator. They quickly applied two to each hinge in turn; one on the top, one on the bottom, keying the codes on the chips into the larger device. “This had better work.”

“It usually does, but you cover the top hinge just in case,” instructed Crash. Uncloaking, Shadow flew quietly to land on top of Crash’s back, and mimic him in spreading his wings in a wide arc around the hinge to cover the hinge.

“I’m sure there is some kind of irony in this…” mumbled Crash as he hit the detonator. The humming got slightly louder as the chips dumped current into the hinges, melting them from the door. The heat coming off the molten slag was impressive, and the light was well blocked by their wings, but the part that Shadow really enjoyed was the lack of noise that came with using those charges. “See, no proble--” the chips lying on the ground erupted in a mass of bright white sparks, which trailed into the air before fading out.

They turned, expecting to see rifles pointed and bullets flying, but the guards were just as still as before. Breaths rising with the adrenaline of danger, they each took a corner of the door, and lifted it, hinges and all out of the way. The whole assembly came free from the wall with not more than a few droplets of molten metal falling to the ground. Putting the door back wouldn’t leave it very stable, and would remove all quiet use of that door as an exit, but leaving it laying against the wall would risk the guards noticing.

“Shift to the other side, put it back in place as we enter.” His team moved to do so, and they moved into the stale air of the redoubt, the door now standing shut behind them. Now secure, they once against faded from sight. Crash took point and led them on.

A short hall led to the kitchens, dusty from decades of neglect. Old stone stoves and counters lined the walls, and the cupboards had been torn open and looted of anything left behind. It was quiet, but the stillness betrayed the peril within the redoubt. Stealth was their ally as they snuck through a derelict storeroom, and down a series of atriums and halls towards the nearest set of stairs. It have been poor guesswork, but Argent Fire suggested they check the old cell blocks first, in the likelihood that Rex Aguilares had simply opted to use cells and restrains already there instead of improvising their own. If the hostages were being held in one of the upper rooms or over by the barracks, everything would get much more difficult.

According to the schematics, there was supposed to be an antechamber before the stairs down to the lower level, and as they rounded the corner to that room, Crash froze. A very tired looking griffon in a worn coat sat at a small table, a pile of cards and a rifle laying on top. As Shadow watched, he shuffled the deck one more time, then rubbed his eyes before dealing a new claw of cards. He was so focused on his game against himself that he never saw the blurs in the air slink around behind. A knife materialized out of the air, and stabbed quickly into the griffon’s neck just above where the plumage ended, snapping the spinal cord clean in two. Crash’s knife, left in the griffon’s neck forced the small trickle of blood to be contained by the neck feathers.

While Crash slid the griffon out of the chair, Shadow was inspecting the hinges on the large wooden door that led to the caves below. They were either maintained, or newly replaced, and the door opened smoothly. Crash and Chaff grabbed the griffon, while Savage policed the weapon. Shadow led the way, stepping gently down the stairs. The murky air of the cave washed over him, causing him to shiver before pressing on.

Spitfire shivered, and huddled a little closer to Tameless. Last night, the ‘bolts had gone to bed early at the resort, with a promise that they’d have a sunrise flight tour of the surrounding mountains. The wakeup alarm came not as a call from the front desk, but a griffon in black cloth and toting a rifle opening her door. It was only in hindsight that they must have had a copy of the room key to get in, and that the resort was probably paid off by Rex Augilares. Such things were at the back of her mind as she leapt into the air and rammed into the ceiling, still half entangled by the blanket. She’d tried to tackle the griffon, but only received a rifle-butt to the face for her trouble, and then faded in and out of consciousness until she’d woken up here.

Where ‘here’ could be was an object of some consternation. The air was cold and damp, and had long since stolen any warmth from her bones, name aside. All of her team were holding each other close, trying to stave off the chill. Past preening the blood off their wings and making sure they were not laying on broken legs, it was all they could do. Consciousness had come from the feeling of being shook where she lay, pain spiking through one wing pressed against a cold stone floor. That pain told her body two things. The first was that she was still alive, and the second was to scream, causing Fleetfoot to stop nudging her and jump back in surprise.

“Sorry! I just wanted to make sure you were ok!”

Spitfire sat up slowly, wincing as her left wing didn’t quite fold up all the way. She turned to look at Fleetfoot, and gasped in shock. The small blue and white pegasus was now stained in the dark red of dried blood, trailing from a long gash in her side. “Well, I’m still alive, but I think my wing’s broken. What about you? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine...but I’m not sure about everypony else.” Fleetfoot waved her foreleg out in an expansive sweep. Following that gesture, Spitfire saw that they were in a large cell, thick iron bars covered in rust hemmed them in on three sides. The fourth was a crudely hewn yellow-brown stone wall, the same color as the floor and ceiling. A single bulb stood on a stand hooked to a battery in the middle of the room, providing a harsh light that didn’t illuminate much past the edges of the cell. Water collected into puddled on the floor, dripping from the ceiling above. In the spaces between the puddles lay her team.

It had been something over an hour, but it was hard to tell without her phone, watch, or anything else. Since then, she’d woken up everypony one by one, a nightmare of blood and tears. Those who had been enthusiastically beaten up had gotten the good end of the deal; broken legs and wings were far more common. Nopony had suffered anything so grievous as a broken spine, but that was unimportant; if they didn’t get medical attention soon, not even healing magic would be able to restore those limbs to full functionality.

Such worrying was foolish, thinking of her career at a time like this. Here she was, holding Tameless close just to stay warm in the chill of the dimly lit cave, knowing that sooner or later something terrible would happen. They’d already been beaten, but that was not out of the question for future abuse. Forced statements, mutilations...and eventually taped executions. A few minutes of searching had attested to the hardiness of the bars, and not even Fleetfoot was small enough to squeeze through. Escape was not an option, but whisperings of rescue had been passed around. They all knew it was possible. After all, they’d seen it before.

They all wanted to see that team bound in, shoot up the griffons, and carry them to safety. That might have been a bit ridiculous of a prospect, but unspoken hope was better than a certainty of a slow, painful, and humiliating death. And when--if--rescue happened, it would be awkward to say the least. She wouldn’t be flying out anytime soon, but carried out by somepony she’d accused of slander not two days before.

And that isn’t even the half of it. For us to get out, he’ll need fight and kill, and act like the monster I told him he was. But this time, I want him to do that, and I’m not so sure he’s being a monster. At this point, it might take that monster to get us out alive. But what if he’s too angry over it? Or if nopony found out where we were taken to? No...he’d come and get us, but how will I face him after this? I know I was drinking...but I meant what I said, and I saw how it hurt. And if he comes and saves me while believing that I hate him...I...Spitfire paused, trying to shake off the thought. No, none of that. I will thank him properly, but even if I did allow myself to admire him, there is too much bad blood between us to fix.

She shivered again, and Tameless pulled her a little closer under his wing. There was something intimate about it, not in the way a stallion courts a mare, but in the way that two ponies suffering trauma and fear hold each other close as a way to stave off impending dread and despair. A way of sharing those last moments when nothing else matters. Around the room, much the same was being exchanged between those who might not be able to hold each other in a few hours time. The lover’s embrace for Skyline Spirit and Eagle Claw, and Soarin’ and Rainbow Dash, but they were not the only ones sharing tender words. Confessions were made, forgiveness was given, and hearts shared camaraderie for all the hours spent together. Those times training to the brink of pain, the good times, the bad times, and those races.

“How long do you think it will be?”

“Huh?” asked Tameless. “Until the griffons come back or until help gets here?”

“Do you think help will get here at all?”

Tameless took a slow breath. “Yes, but I’m not getting my hopes up. And if it does, you know what you’ve gotta do. I really don’t care how you feel, but I expect you to apologize, and this time I’ll make sure he stays around to hear it.”

Spitfire sighed. “Sounds like a good time. Anything but this and anywhere but here.”

Tameless nodded in assent. “Here...did you see where they took us?”

“No. But I’m guessing we’re somewhere up in the mountains.”

“Oh.” They both knew what heights meant without working wings.

“Yeah…”

They sat in silence for a time, hearing the tender words of those around; a quiet murmur of solace and consolation, punctuated by tears. When an almost unfamiliar voice spoke up, they were all too exhausted to be surprised, but eager to see what the curiosity was. Looking over to the door, Spitfire saw something she’d be hoping to see for hours now. A visored face of a pony wearing all black, and several faint blurs in the air behind him. Oh, and everypony was getting back from the door quickly.

The cell was the single largest holding structure on the basement level, and exactly where Argent had suggested they would be. Well out in the open, and about fifty lengths down the stairs up against the wall. The hall, though it could be better described as a tunnel, continued deeper into the mountain to places used for far more grisly things in the past. Inside the cell was an atrocity. Over a dozen pegasi bruised and bloodied, and judging by the posture, more than a few broken wings. And there in the corner, cuddled up against Tameless was--No. Don’t think about her.

“Savage, make sure nothing comes down here. Crash, bust the lock. Chaff, once he does, assist him in checking the condition of the hostages.” They scrambled to get their jobs done, and Shadow sat still, opening up his comms. “Elder, this is Hunter. Confirmed hostages are alive, in the assumed location. Standby for full status, but it looks like we’ll need chariots to get them out.

Dive’s voice came back over the radio. “Understood. Second cav is one hour out, you’ll need to hold position until then. Your POC with them will be Commander Constant Vigil, callsign Goliath. He’s been read into the mission, so feel free to contact him with updates.”

“Thank you sir.”

Crash had faded back into view, and was started to apply thermite paste to the lock on the cell. At the sound of his voice, everypony in the cell looked up in joy. “Alright everypony. I need you to stay very quiet, and very calm, and we’ll get you out of this, ok? Now stand back from the door, this is going to be very hot.”

Hurriedly, those anywhere close to the edge of the cell moved over to the back wall, and once they were clear, Crash lit the paste. For a few moments, hissing and a bright light filled the room, as molten iron ate through the aged lock, melting it clean off the bars and dripping onto the ground below. The room quickly warmed up, only to be left cold again by the chill from further down the hall. As soon as the burning had stopped, Crash opened the door, and moved to check on the Wonderbolts. He would be done quickly, and that left just a bit more time to get radio issues out of the way. Shadow pulled up one of the newer contacts on his comms list.

“Goliath, this is Hunter.”

“This is Goliath, I read you Hunter.” The voice on the other side was calm and collected, but broken and hard to understand against the loud onrush of wind.

“What is your status?”

“Three-hundred miles out from target. ETA one hour.”

“Alright. We will be out in the courtyard by the time you arrive. If the situation remains stable, you will have to take out eight hostiles before making the rescue. We have sixteen civilians that will need transport. Once extraction is complete, we will escort you back to friendly airspace.”

“Understood.”

“Give me an update every ten moons on your ETA. Hunter out.”

Cutting the connection after getting an affirmative from Constant Vigil, Shadow checked to see that Savage had the door covered, and then headed on into the cell. Inside, Crash and Chaff had already splinted several legs and wings, and had left their medical kit open in the middle of the room. Pausing only to grab some medical tape and unfold a length of plastic, he hurried over to Aces High, who was lying in the middle of the room, holding one yellow leg out to the side.

“May I check on your leg?”

Aces High held it out, but cringed as Shadow drew close.

“It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you. I do have to check where the break or fracture is, and that’s going to hurt a bit. I know you’re a big colt Ace, and this will hurt less than your practices did. Now stallion up and hold still so I can fix it.” The racer relaxed, and Shadow put one forehoof on each side of the leg, gently running them up until he encountered an unevenness that shouldn’t have been there. The plastic went over that, pressing it back into shape, and then he wrapped it tightly with the med tape. A few seconds of waiting confirmed that the pulse was still strong on both sides of the wrapping. “Ok, can you still feel the blood flow there?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“Good. Try to keep off that leg until I tell you it’s time to go though. Ok, who’s next?”

The next ten minutes were spent cleaning and bandaging wounds, splinting broken bones, and checking for concussions. Not being a doctor, there was only so much that Shadow knew how to do. Most of it was just limited to patching somepony to hold on long enough to see a real doctor. Between Crash, Chaff, and Shadow, the ‘bolts were bandaged up, and looking slightly better. At least they haven’t started making noise. We might yet pull this one off.

“This is Goliath checking in, fifty moons out.”

“Understood Goliath, situation is stable.”

Shadow was looking around for the next injured ‘bolt when Savage’s voice echoed in his helmet. “Contact on the stairs, coming down slow. Hasn’t seen anything yet, but in a few seconds he will.”

“Take him out, quietly.”

A moment passed, then the *whump* of a body hitting the stairs sounded through the cavern. By the time Shadow got over to the stairs to check on the situation, Savage had already shoved the body off into a dark corner. There was precious little to do for the blood spill on the stairs; they’d just have to count on the low light to hide it for the time being. Oh this is about to get sticky.

Shadow sealed his visor up again before talking. No need to scare the already frightened civilians even more. “That means trouble, colts. I don’t know if he was just a random wanderer, a roving patrol, or sent to investigate, but if it wasn’t the first, we’re gonna be found out. I’m not seeing a way out lower on down, so we need to move out now, before we get stuck down here. Get the hostages up, and those who can walk walking. For those who can’t, find somepony to carry them. We’re heading back to the kitchen, and we’ll try to hide and hold out there until we’re forced to move outside. Any questions?”

“One,” Crash ask quietly. “We have two weapons from the griffons we took out. Think we should let the hostages carry those?”

“They can’t operate those without guard’s shoes, so if one of you doesn’t mind donating your rear two, that can happen. Those aren’t suppressed weapons, so make sure they know not to fire it unless we give them permission. Savage, keep your post here until we get them all mobile.”

“Sir.” Savage passed over the well-worn rifle the griffon had been carrying, and then faded back into the shadows. Holding the weapon under one wing, Shadow hurried back over to the cell. Inside, Crash was explaining to the assorted pegasi exactly what was going on. Their expressions ranged from tired, to scared, to stoic, to pained, to panicked beyond any reason. They had every right to be; they’d been dragged out in the middle of the night, hurt, threatened, were waiting for more hurt, and were being told that they’d have to run and fight for their very lives. It’s not fair. But nothing ever is.

“Goliath, this is Hunter. We have a snag.”

“And that is?”

“Ran into a roving patrol, took them out, but discovery is imminent. This could get ugly quick.”

“Keep me posted. We’re getting there as fast as we can.”

“Got it.” Shadow cut the connection and entered the cell.

“...and so, we need two volunteers who are not carrying anypony else to take these spare guard’s shoes, and help protect everypony.” Crash nudged two steel horseshoes covered in black rubber forward, the flex pin still a bit red from where he’d just removed it. He looked a little uneasy with his hind-half a quarter-hoof lower than his front, but proffered the rifles and the ammunition bags the griffons had been carrying anyways.

“I’ll take one!” exclaimed Rapidfire, striding forward quickly. Hey looked down at the weapon for a moment, then at Crash’s shoe, then back up at Crash hesitantly. “Uhm...how do I use it?”

“Here, I’ll show you.” Spitfire took the other shoe, snapping it to her hoof with a slight gasp of pain. Then sitting on her rump and bracing the rifle with her other foreleg, she held it up for him to see. Rapidfire nodded and went to put it on, and while he was, she turned to Shadow. Oh skies above no. “Hey look, Shadow I need to talk to yo--”

“That can wait miss. We need to move now.” Shadow raised his voice just a little so all those gathered could hear him. “Alright everypony, I’m sure the lieutenant here already informed you, but we need to get out of here as quietly as possible, and lay low until our ride out gets here. And you two,” he glanced over at Spitfire and Rapidfire, “don’t you dare fire those unless one of us orders you to.”

“Got it!” agreed Rapidfire.

“Alright. Those of you who are well enough to carry those with broken legs, do so. Hurry up!” Were it not for the wounds and the cold stone walls, threat of discovery and possibility of death, it could have just been another Coach Wing workout; ‘carry your buddy to the other end of the castle.’ Nopony dared to say as much. Once there were all up, Crash opened the door, and led them all across the rough passage to the stairs. Savage was waiting at the top, one foreleg draped over the handle, watching as the line of injured ponies made their way up the stairs.

Every *click* and *clack* from a hoof-fall made Shadow wince. The bottoms of their guard's shoes had been rubber-coated for silence a long time ago, but the Wonderbolts had no such advantage, and the noise of hooves on stone was something that would get a lot of attention in a fortress occupied by griffons. It was going to be a long ways to the kitchens. Shadow sealed up his helmet again just long enough to go over the plan without scaring anyone else.

“Savage, I want you on point with me. Crash, Chaff, head up the rear. If we somehow make it to the kitchens without raising an alarm, we can wait it out, but somehow I don’t think that’s gonna happen. Either way, that’s the exit we want, because they won’t expect anyone to be coming from it. When we have to go outside, off the guards on the towers, then move to barricade the other doors. And stay uncloaked; we don’t want them to shoot at the hostages.”

“Got it.”

The table at the top was just as they’d left it, cards still strewn in front of the single chair. The halls were wide enough for two griffons to pass abreast, which meant that while Shadow and Crash were in front, everypony else could go four at a time. This has gotta stop...they’re making too much noise.

“Quiet. Tip-hoof if you have to. And don’t talk.”

The noise slackened off, but still seemed hair-raisingly loud to ears alert with adrenaline for the slightest sound of paws or claws on stone. Just make it there. Shoot anything that gets in your way. He started forward, moving slowly, carefully checking each hall or door they passed on the left. To his side, Savage was doing the same to every door on the right, though his longer rifle took a bit more time to move around the corners.

With each bend and turn in their way, and with every passing minute, still no griffons appeared. Each dusty old atrium and hall with arches created a new space to frantically look over, and each one was undisturbed save for the telltale pawprints of patrol routes. Soon those would be obliterated by a mass of hooves, clearly marking the way they went. There would be no hiding.

Two turns away from the old kitchens, Shadow poked his head around the corner to see exactly what he’d been waiting for. Twenty lengths down the hall, two griffons in cloaks and coats, carrying rifles. They saw the pony in black carrying something that was obviously a weapon appear, with another leveling an assault rifle, and squawked in alarm. One leveled his rifle to fire, and the other reached for a claw radio.

Against every desire for self-preservation, Shadow turned to move the sights over the one carrying the radio. Two to the chest. One to the head. It fell, the transmit button still unindented. Success. Then the bullet whistled past Shadows head to ping on the wall behind. From his side, Savage’s weapon coughed five times in rapid succession, and the second griffon was knocked off his paws, clutching his chest. One more shot served to leave him still. Shadow took a deep breath.

“Move up!” He was no longer whispering, but just short of a yell. There was no point in hiding that noise now that gunshots had been heard. Everypony broke out into a run. “Goliath, this is Hunter. We’ve been compromised.”

“Roger that Hunter. Be advised, we are still thirty-five moons out. You will have to hold on your own until then.” The commander paused for a moment. “I really hope you have something special cooked up, because that’s a lot of griffons.”

“I…” panted Shadow as he ran. “...am gonna try everything I can...sir. But if we can’t hold them off, I’ll...make sure to hold them off. Just be ready to come in hot.”

“You got it. Good luck.”

Everypony piled into the kitchens, gasping for breath, especially those burdened under another. “Chaff, stay here and protect them...Crash, Savage, on me. We’re gonna clear those guard towers. Move!”

The door had to be lifted out of the way, and it was certainly enough to get the attention of the now very alert guards on the towers. Endowed with the shorter ranged weapon, Shadow carried the heavy wooden door as it were a shield twice his size, while Crash and Savage faded from view and took to the air as soon as there was room. With each round that impacted the door, it slammed against Shadow’s body, bruising his shoulder and hammering his bones. As the moments passed, the pain grew more intense, but more intermittent. It was the longest fifteen seconds of the day, when Chaff finally called out.

“Clear!”

Shadow threw down the door and flexed his aching body. “OH THANK CELESTIA! Chaff, get them out here now! Chaff, Savage, barricade those doors with anything you can find. Move!”

As everypony jumped to, Shadow lumbered back over to the open doorway, still hefting the door. Once all the ponies had gotten out, he wedged it back in place, and pulled two nearby empty rain barrels to stick in front of it. It will have to do. On the far side of the redoubt inner wall, Crash and Savage had succeeded in moving several of the stone blocks in front of the barracks door. That only left--

“Sir, we’ve got nothing to cover the main door with.”

“Put it with flare charges and whatever demolition charges you have on it, and cover it with your fields of fire! Savage, you’ve got second volley. Guns on third.”

Disks almost glowing from the sunfire within and wrapped packages of high explosive were scattered around the front door; the most lethal door prank ever assembled. The sounds of claws on the other side of the door, and crashing and banging on the barracks door encouraged them to get back to where Chaff was waiting with the prisoners behind a small barricade of barrels they’d scraped together, training his shotgun on the door. They all followed suit.

“You two, get ready. Don’t shoot ‘til you see something that needs it.”

Spitfire and Rapidfire grimaced and hefted their rifles. Dead ahead, the door opened slowly, a half-dozen griffons pushing it’s massive weight. They had just enough time to take in the rapidly improvised barricade and the lack of guards on the wall towers when Crash bit down on the detonator, and they disappeared into the flame. Daylight harshly lit up all the courtyard chased down by a wave of fire. The heat washed over everypony, crackling the skin even under their coats. Several of the wonderbolts cried out, and several cried.

When the smoke cleared, the door was in ashes and a crater marred the earth under where it stood. Soot blackened the hall, and the nearby griffons that had not been incinerated were either dead or on fire. It was a sight right out of Tartarus, and only about to get worse. Now roused, the garrison was massing. Dozens of armed griffons, sporting not just rifles, but machine guns and launchers too were running and flying toward the door. The sheer firepower and number of gold cloaks on the beasts howling for their blood was inspiring of fear, until a whoosh sounded from overhead.

Trailing exhaust, the rocket impacted the middle of the advancing griffons, and for the second time in ten seconds, a shock wave passed through the huddled ponies. Dropping the spent tube, Savage took up his rifle again and dove behind the barricade. The smoke cleared yet again, this time with legs, wings, heads and torsos scattered around a two length radius, and those outside of it were crawling, shrapnel having torn their insides apart. Undaunted by, or perhaps in revenge for what happened to their comrades, more griffons kept on coming. On the far side of the wall, the blocks shifted under the weight of many blows, and the barracks door came off, even more griffons spilling out from within.

Shooting was an the only option they had left, and shoot they did. Crash and Savage with their assault rifles, expertly picking off the griffons one by one, Chaff with his shotgun, just as quietly but far more grisely. Spitfire and Rapidfire tried their best, but controlling a weapon that heavy without much experience was hard. Still, it was noisy and intimidating. Shadow for his part was clutching his short rifle tightly, carefully preventing those griffons leaving the barracks from getting far.

This isn’t gonna last. As soon as we swap mags they’ll advance, and we’re toast. Time to pull out all the stops. “Crash, we can’t hold this. I’m gonna put up a hurricane wall.”

“Dammit Hunter, that is not a good idea!”

“Better that than dead!” Shadow emptied the rest of his mag in automatic, and then dropped the weapon, his saddlebags, and his pistol to the dirt and sprinted out away from the barricade, spreading his wings as he ran. Fifteen lengths away, he dug one hoof in and made a sharp turn, and jumped into the air. Every last ounce of strength left in his body, edged on by the adrenaline of bullets flying by was thrown into making those wings beat harder. In a blink he’d made one circle around the barricade. Then two. Then three, and the wind rose with him. It was low, but grew as he flew higher until a cylinder of shear winds forty lengths across and a hundred high arose, capped off at the top. Clear at first, it soon accumulated the sand from the ground, turning brown and opaque.

“You might very well be by the time this is done.”

Spitfire tried to hold still as her rifle shook her. Holding it up was hard enough without it kicking hard enough to hurt her foreleg, neck, and shoulder all at once. The last round spat out, and she almost fell back. No! I must protect them! She reached down into the pouch that Crash and Shadow had given her to find that the griffon who had previously owned it had only left one magazine spare. Never having loaded a Harley Flock rifle before, she struggled a little bit in dropping the old magazine, and missed the right point to stick in the new one several times in her haste. The adrenaline made it seem longer, but it only took a few seconds to do.

Biting down on the charging bit, she racked a bullet into the gun, and lifted it back over the barricade. To her surprise, she could barely see the griffons behind a thick wall of wind, growing darker every second.

“Don’t shoot!” The yell came as one of the Timberwolves sprinted over and pushed her weapon down. “That’s a hurricane wall, and Shadow Wing doesn’t need anything else inside of it.”

He didn’t. “So what can we do?” She set the weapon down. It was heavy.

“We can wait.” Crash turned to face her, a grim frown on his lips. “And hope he holds it up.”

“Well how long will it be until help gets here?”

“A while.”

“How long!?”

“Half an hour.” Crash turned around and walked away. Not that there was very far to go. Just a little space on either side of the barricade was clear; stepping into the wall would strip flesh from bones unless one were to enter it at the same speed. It was like a tornado, but made be be completely impenetrable, so it required the creator to fly much faster and harder.

While physical strength and endurance was a hard prerequisite to make such a weather pattern, there was a second that few knew about. Spitfire herself had encountered it when learning how to perform the wall. The winds within were circling at hundreds of miles per hour, such that contact with even small particles of dirt could cause scratches that were painful, and even deep and bleeding. That’s why she’d tried it a thousand lengths in the air.

Half an hour...oh Sun above. When Spitfire had tried to hold up a hurricane wall, she’d come out of it, covered in scratches, and the doctors had told her if she’d been in any longer, the blood loss would have been severe. She held the current world record before becoming too exhausted to fly any longer. It was twelve minutes.

“This is Goliath. We’re ten moons out. You still hanging in there, Hunter?”

Shadow heard the words through a haze of exhaustion. Each breath from the recycler in his helmet was stale, and the voice on the radio didn’t share in his suffering. Turning his head down to look would have thrown off the form he was trying so desperately to maintain, to glean every last bit of strength from his exhausted body. But he wanted to look. He could feel the droplets running down the inside of his torn body suit, splashed into oblivion as soon as they met the howling wind. Each time he ran into another grain of sand, another pebble, it slashed him further, the thin material of the combat skin unable to protect him from the barrage. The only part that was free from cuts was his face and the top of his neck, protected by his helmet.

“I’m…” he gasped around the word, trying to get enough air to keep flying. “...yes.”

The bleeding had started about fifteen minutes in. Refract Ray had made good suits, but if they weren’t entirely bulletproof, they were not going to hold up to constant assault by flying debris. First his forelegs, then his back and hind legs, and now finally his neck were all getting scraped raw. Each wing was being worn down, and the effort to flap each limb grew as they became more and more bruised. With each impact the blood loss grew more severe. It had started as a burning pain, but now it was strangely numb. Cold almost. He'd felt it before.

First came the lightheadedness, something he had to focus hard to fight through. It’d only gotten stronger as the seconds wore on into minutes. Then came the deadness in the extremities, each leg growing even more leaden than exertion alone could cause. And now his core was growing cold. I guess Crash was right. Too damn late now.

“Hunter! Talk to me!” Constant Vigil called out desperately. “What in the name of the Sun are you doing?”

“When...you get here...I’ll probably be...unconscious...I...relieve myself...of command...talk to...Lieutenant ...Storm...Crasher...when you...arrive…”

“Hang in there! We’ve got medics!”

“Aff.” It was all the answer he had breath to give. When vision went to a tunnel, and the pain drove out anything else, that was when his trainers and teammates had always told him to push harder. And after that push, nothing else mattered. Now, everything mattered, hung in the balance on him keeping the wall up. The grim knowledge that a break would cause him to falter helped him keep driving the windstorm that was slowly ripping him to shreds. He was doing it for Equestria, but Equestria wouldn’t ever know of it. He saw in his mind’s eye Spitfire. I’m doing it for her. But I won’t ever see her again after this. If I must die, I will die well. This wall will not fall until I do. Deep breath, fast. Again. Again!

“Crash...you’re in charge...now.”

“Hunter, don’t you dare do this to me. If I could fly into that wall without being torn up you know I’d take your place right bucking now! So hang in there just a bit and we’ll patch you up!”

Saying those words left a deficit of air to make up, so Shadow declined to answer. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that the wall should hold itself up for a while after he stopped flying, so even if he blacked out sooner than help arrived, everypony below should be ok. The griffons had been kept out, the hostages were secure and alive for the time being, and so the mission would be accomplished.

A series of rapid loud noises rang out from below, which his tired mind catalogued as gunfire. The shots kept sounding, and a whistling noise filled the hurricane wall. The pieces of metal screamed past his ears, howling their intent to the pegasus sharing the airspace with them.

“Aaaaaagggggghhhhhhhh!”

One of the rounds tore through his right wing, leaving a wide bloody hole in the membrane and feathers. For a suspended moment in time Shadow continued on the same path through the wind, watching every particle that he’d dragged into the air go by. Then everything came back as his wing was dragged wide, forcing him into a hard left turn out into the open air, curving into an upside-down spiral to the ground below.

“Crash!”

Halfway to the ground, Crash was there, catching him in two black-coated forelegs. The impact stung, but Shadow no longer cared.

“Hunter, what did you do to yourself?!” Crash rushed to the ground, and after setting his bleeding captain gently to the ground, lunged into the open medical kit he had waiting. Out came the clot-dust. Not waiting to open it properly, Crash tore the bag clean in half with his knife, and dumped it over Shadow. The injured stallion gave a whine of pain, but Crash spread the off-white powder as far as he could all over any exposed areas he saw blood.

Spitfire hurried over, and setting her rifle aside started to speak quickly. “Shadow I need to--”

“Get out of here and let me work!” yelled Crash in desperation.

Before Shadow could do anything else, Crash grabbed a two part compression bandage, and planted it firmly on either side of the hole in Shadow’s wing.

“Gun…”

“What was that sir?”

“Get me my weapon!”

“You’re in no condition to fight, sir.”

Shadow forced himself up, and slowly walked over to his short-rifle, and changed the magazines from the pile below. Up above the winds were slowing and becoming clearer. “Let me take them with me.”

Each of his team put one hoof out, giving the most gentle of nudges they could and a solemn nod, before hurrying back over to their spots, getting ready for the barrier to fall. Shadow limped over to where his ammunition belt had fallen, propped himself up to half-lie on one of the barrels, and waited. Each second ticked by to a head lighter than air, stinging on his coat, and a cold thumping in his chest tingling with adrenaline. As he looked on, the wall began to fall. First from the top, and he lowered his head to rest on the back end of his weapon.

As soon as there was space over the top, the griffons began to fly through. They were met with every last bit of desperation the Timberwolves had, and Chaff took off to give his shotgun better use. Tracking those fliers took every last bit of strength Shadow’s forelegs had, and all of his concentration. It wasn’t until he’d shot three down that the darkness in the edges of his vision started to become a problem. Come...on…

The next time he squeezed his foreleg to pull the trigger, the weapon clicked empty. The ammo belt was all the way down by his hindlegs, a reach almost too far. It took two tries to pick up the magazine, looping the hook on his shoe through the loop on the mag. That’s when the leg wouldn’t come up any further. Through the choking dark he saw it wasn’t snagged on anything, his leg just wouldn’t lift it. Cursing, Shadow reached back to try to draw his sidearm. One pass at the straps, and the leg slumped onto the barrel. The *thunk* echoed as he closed his eyes, and the sound of a great deal of gunfire hammered his ears before he heard no more.

Author's Note

This has been in my head for over a year. Feels good to finally get it on paper. One more chapter after to wrap it all up. Thanks for sticking with me if you're still here.

Thanks one more time to Dizziestbeef, for somehow managing to find time to seriously edit this chapter while preparing to move. He's a boss.

They Fear You No Longer

While it is true that war never really changes, ponies change. War changes the mind and body, spirit and character of any pony that she touches. That change is so often for the worse, but now and again, it can be for the better. Be that stallion who comes back strong and proud, knowing that your sacrifice was the right thing to do.

-Captain Grade One Shadow Wing, Commander, Timberwolf Team

Waking up to pain is something everypony experiences in their lives. The pain of sore limbs from hard labor the day before. The pain of waking up alone and longing for another to be there. The pain of knowing that the day will be filled with hardship before it is time to return to bed and do it again. And then there is waking up with a searing pain of the body too powerful to go back to sleep.

That last kind was exactly what Shadow was feeling, and not for the first time in his life. The beeping of a heart rate monitor off to the left of what felt like a soft bed and pillow beneath him was a joyful sound in that it was constant and steady. Knowing that he was safe where he was, Shadow felt no need to do anything. He’d been in much the same state from live fire missions and training ops before, and knew that he was in bed resting for a reason.

Damn, this burns all over. What the heck was I doing? I was called off on a mission...yes. Mission to rescue...Spitfire. It all came rushing back, the memories adding to the pounding in his skull. How they’d infiltrated the fortress. His anger at seeing Tameless holding her. Their frenzied escape through the halls. That final desperate attempt to keep the griffons out. Might as well see the damage.

Opening his eyes, Shadow wasn’t greeted with the emergency ward that Mama Wolf kept in the base, but rather the white walls and railed bed of a hospital. His body was still mostly under the blanket, but that which was visible was completely wrapped in bandages and gauze from the neck down, nearly making him into a mummy. Both of those things were observed and catalogued quickly to make room for the most important thing he saw. Spitfire was sitting in a chair at the end of his bed, a bandage around her left wing. She stood up and smiled as she saw him open his eyes. Oh no, please not now.

“Shadow, you’re awake!”

He coughed several times until his throat was clear enough to speak. “Am I dead?”

Spitfire paused, looking puzzled. “Well does this look like Elysium or Tartarus to you?”

“A little bit of both.”

She frowned and was about to speak again when the door swung open to admit Dive Skyward and Princess Luna. Spitfire jumped up, and then bowed to the princess.

“Thank you young mare. We desire a moment of privacy, please leave us for now.”

“Of course.” Spitfire left the room and shut the door behind her, but Shadow suspected she hadn’t gone far. As soon as the door closed, Dive walked right over to sit down next the the bedside. Princess Luna remained standing where she was.

“We are here to offer our condolences for your suffering, and utmost congratulations on your success. This kingdom owes you a debt of gratitude for all of you have done, Shadow Wing.”

“You crazy, reckless, amazing idiot!” cackled Dive. “You have no idea how glad I am that you’re alive right now. When I heard that you went into a hurricane wall with help so far away, I figured you were dead for sure. Then Vigil told me he’d gotten the area clear, and you stable, and I haven’t been a happier stallion. You really made that mission work. They would have all died without you.”

“Not only that," continued Luna, “but the redoubt contained a wealth of information on the activities, members, and locations of Rex Aguilares, so we will have a much easier time rooting them out and ending their cruelty to the pony race. This should teach them a lesson about the price of abducting our citizens.”

“That’s wonderful news, Princess. Though if I may?” Luna nodded and Shadow continued. “Where are we?”

“Ah, I can answer that,” replied Dive. “And I think you’ll like the answer, when I finally get to it, so hold on. After what you did out there, I brought what you did up to the Princesses, and they agree with me. You’re being awarded the Order of the North Star.” Well, that’s...awesome? But kind of pointless. “Your awards ceremony is at fifteen-hundred on Friday.”

“What?! But...how?”

Luna and Dive Skyward shared a chuckle. “Ok, I think I’ve led you on long enough. Your unit is being declassified. Honestly, the entire Second Cavalry saw you guys beating the tar out of those griffons, and that’s an awful lot of hushing up to do. Yes, that means you have to go get your dress uniform out and all ready for the ceremony, and you need to pin on that pile of ribbons you never bothered with. You’re a captain in the Royal Guard, after all, and you need to look the part.”

“Well, ok then.” The consequences of what Dive had just said were beyond Shadow’s comprehension for the moment. This is gonna change...everything. How I work with Riff...man that’s gonna cause a stupid amount of attention I don’t want. And then there is-- “Wait, what about the Wonderbolts? Is their oath of silence being removed?”

“Of course. I know this is all a bit much, so I’ll just give you the pertinent stuff for now. The unicorn surgeons will come by later today to get all those cuts healed up, and you should be cleared to leave by this evening. Come talk to me once you get out, and we’ll go over everything, ok?”

“Alright Dad, thanks.”

“Rest well young warrior, for you have earned it.” Princess Luna opened the door to leave. “Oh, but it looks like this young mare has stayed to speak with you. Enjoy yourselves.” The majestic alicorn and the intelligence colonel left, leaving Shadow alone again with Spitfire.

She seemed to be waiting for Shadow to say something, but grew frustrated as he lay there giving her a cold stare.

“Well?!”

“Well what?”

“Well aren’t you going to say anything?”

“What else is there to say? You’ve spoken your peace, as have I. You’re alive, and free, and you can go back to doing your racing thing, making millions of bits and living your dream. And you can do so, knowing that you were right.” Spitfire started to walk closer to Shadow while he was bending over to undo the bandages on his forehooves. When the cloth came free, his hoof was exposed to the air, revealing small rivulets of blood dried onto the surface.

“Now that you’ve been there and seen who I am, you know why they’re red. Their blood, my blood, it really doesn’t matter. I’m still a monster to you, and I would be to anypony who knows the real me. So why are you still here, Spitfire? I’ve given you everything I possibly could have, save for my life. And I came within slivers of doing so. What else could you possibly wa--”

Shadow’s pain-fueled monologue was cut short by Spitfire’s lips meeting his. Utter shock rendered him unable to think, and the bandages left him unable to move, stuck there until she drew her head back, a wide smile on her face.

“No, not everything.”

Getting ready for the ceremony was a special kind of mundane nostalgia. It had taken over an hour of work to get all the dust out of his dress uniform and pin on the pile of medals correctly, and the dress horseshoes were in such bad repair he had to buy new ones. He hadn’t worn that uniform in years, not since he was still officially an active member of the Royal Guard.

If Shadow was expecting the awards ceremony to be like the boring events he’d attended as a young lieutenant, in which some guard pony was decorated for crud he hadn’t earned, he was disappointed. Whoever organized the event had decided to hold it at the front courtyard of the palace, and invite everypony. The place was filled, some pegasi even hovering for space.

Princess Celestia and Luna, Storm Crasher, Wild Wind, Razor Wings, Constant Vigil, Sure Splint, and Argent Fire were all waiting as Shadow was called forward to the steps by Dive Skyward. There was the obligatory reading of why he was earning the medal, but Shadow wasn’t paying attention to it. He knew exactly what he had done. While standing there, he couldn’t allow his eyes to wander, but out of the edge of his vision he could see a blur of orange and yellow. It captured his attention until Dive moved forward and Shadow was forced to turn and face him.

Dive pinned the medal on Shadow’s uniform. The two traded salutes, and then made room for everypony else to give a hoof-shake. That was all, and Shadow was ready to leave when the crowd started cheering for a speech. For lack of anything better, he’d gone up and given some words about how war changes ponies, and to make sure that they return home better for it. They clapped politely, but soon let him leave. He had a team that wanted to spend time swapping stories with him and joke over their close call, a family that wanted him to come home as their son again, and a mare that wanted to get to know him a little better.

Fifteen months later…

Clouds rippled just below as Arc Thrill threw all his might into one more sprint across the field. The sun was just about to come up, and he wanted to have done just a few drills to warm up before the rest of the ‘bolts got to practice. Looking down at that weave in the clouds caused him to almost completely run over Auroria, the other new member to the team. Beside her, Rainbow Dash landed with a chuckle.

“Whoa boy, careful there Arc. Don’t wanna wear yourself out before practice even starts.”

“Awww come on! I’m just getting all warmed up! See? They’re already all here!”

The ‘bolts streaked onto the the field and heaved their begs over to the side. “Yeah, but today is not a good day to be working out early.”

“Aww bull. We’re the Wonderbolts. Always working harder, right?”

“‘Bolts on me!” rang out the customary cry as Spitfire called the team in for their warm up. “It’s Thursday, and you all know what that means! Shadow Wing will be here shortly, so we have a fun day ahead of us!”

Arc Thrill turned to the two mares beside him. “Wait, she can’t seriously mean who I think she means, can she? The Guard captain was was in the news a ways back?”

“You betcha that’s him,” answered Rainbow Dash with a grin. “He’s also Spitfire’s fiance, so don’t get cross with him. Trust me, it doesn’t help. If you’re as eager as you seem, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Fine or not, I’m about to find out. A short and pale pegasus shot over the cloud walls and flew onto the field. Bring it on small stuff. Landing in the middle of the Wonderbolts, Shadow Wing was sporting the usual blue shirt, sunglasses and cap of a coach. He cracked his neck and turned to Spitfire.

“You get them all warmed up?”

“Oh they’re ready.” She gave a knowing smile.

“Very well. PUSHUPS! ONE HUNDRED ON MY COUNT! GO!” Aww buck.

Author's Note

I can't believe it's finally done!

For the authors note and a whole bunch of other goodies, check the appendices after this.

Appendices and Author's Note

When I first started on this story, I really had no idea how much worldbuilding would go into it. Every time I ran into something else that works in our modern world, I needed a pony version. It started with MACH turning into ‘boom-by’, and then turned into all sorts of things. Here I have provided a list of OCs and their descriptions, Equestrian months, the Royal Guard phonetic alphabet, and table of pony scientific units, all with their human equivalents. Equestrian military ranks do not quite equate to any modern military rank system, but I have provided them all here anyways. All of this is provided in the odd case you care enough to look, or you want to borrow it for your own story. At the very end is my final author’s note for the story. And for those of you who don’t wanna read it, TLDR is ‘yes, there will be a follow-up story, if not two.’

Characters:

For the number of names and nicknames I give (and will be using again), here is a list of characters I use the in the story (grouped by category, rather than order of appearance). They will be described in the following format:

Name, ‘Nickname’, Gender, Species, Coat color/Mane+Tail Color/Eye Color/Hoof color (if applicable). If left blank, that character has not yet entered the story. And of course, if you recognize a canon name, that character aint mine.

Wonderbolts:

Tameless, Male, Pegasus, Brown/Black/Blue/-
Night Flyer, 'Buzz’, Male, Pegasus, Midnight Blue/Gray/Purple/-
Fleetfoot, Female, Pegasus, Pale Blue/White/Green/-
Spitfire, 'Spits', Female, Pegasus, Yellow-Orange/Orange/Brown/-
Soarin', Male, Pegasus, Pale Blue/Navy/Green/-
Rapidfire, Female, Pegasus, Yellow-Orange/Orange/Red/-
Double Dare, 'Iron', Male, Pegasus, White/Brown/Red/-
Twitchy Hooves, 'Twitch', Female, Pegasus White/Lime Green/Magenta/-
Aces High, 'Ace', Male, Pegasus, Yellow/Emerald Green/Blue/-
Valkyrie, Female, Pegasus, White/Yellow/Blue/Black
Sidewinder, 'Snake', Male, Pegasus, Tan/Brown/Black/-
Falcon Cry, Male, Pegasus, Brown/Gray/Blue/-
Skyline Spirit, ‘Spirit’, Female, Pegasus, White/Black/Blue/-
Endless Skies, 'getdownheredammit!’, Male, Pegasus Tan/White/Brown/-
Rainbow Dash, ‘Dash’, Female, Pegasus, Cyan/Rainbow/Purple/-
Eagle Claw, Male, Pegasus, White/Gold/Brown/-
Arc Thrill, Male, Pegasus, Blue/White/Yellow/-
Auroria, Female, Pegasus, Yellow/Blue/Green/-

Timberwolves and Guard Related: (Without later promotions)

Captain Dive Skyward, 'Dad', Male, Pegasus, Light Gray/Blue/Yellow-Gold/-
Lieutenant Shadow Wing, 'Hunter', Male, Pegasus, Pale Green/Navy/Gray/Almost Matte Black
Stable Sergeant Storm Crasher, 'Crash', Male, Pegasus, White/Gray/Blue/-
Sergeant Wild Wind, 'Chaff', Male, Pegasus, Black/Navy/Blue/-
Sergeant Razor Wings, 'Savage', Male, Pegasus, Red/Gray/White/-
Colonel Argent Fire, Male, Earth Pony, Red/Orange+Gray/Blue/-
Refract Ray, ‘Ray’, Male, ?, ?/?/?/?
Sure Splint, ‘Mama Wolf’, Female, Unicorn, Gray/Brown/Yellow/-
Commander Constant Vigil, ‘Goliath’, Male, Pegasus, Gray/Blue+Gray/Gray/- (Thanks for letting me borrow your OC, Tavor-212)

Musicians:

Riff Runner, Male, Unicorn, Midnight Gray-Blue/Blonde/Light Brown/-
Sable Scratch, Male, Unicorn, Brown/White/Brown/-
Vivace, ‘Viv’, Female, Unicorn, Red/Yellow/Purple/-
Double Kick, ‘Kicks’, Female, Earth Pony, Green/Purple/Blue/Black

Other/Supporting/Background:

Blazemane, Female, Pegasus, Yellow-Orange/Red/Brown/-
Shiny Platter, Female, Earth Pony, Yellow/White/Brown/-
Cracked Mug, Male, Earth Pony, Tan/Brown/Green/-
Ever Dark, Male, Earth Pony, Black/White/Blue/-
On Record, Male, Earth Pony, Brown/Tan/Blue/-

Months:

January - Wintertide
February - Iceglow
March - Greenwaft
April - Downpour
May - Blossoming
June - Aestatia
July - Sunfire
August - Summertide
September - Autunox
October - Sableleaf
November - Nivalium
December - Moonfrost

Phonetic Alphabet:

Autumn
Balloon
Cherry
Diarch
Element
Friendship
Glow
Harmony
Igloo
Jewel
Kumquat
Lemon
Moon
Nuzzle
Opal
Potion
Quip
Ruby
Sapphire
Tide
Uke
Vapor
Whistle
X-ray*
Yam
Zap-apple

*You have no idea how hard it is to find a word that is two syllables or less that sounds Equestrian, and doesn’t sound like anything that could be an objective or combat related. After going through a couple of dictionaries and only finding biology techno-babble, I decided to steal this one from the USA phonetic alphabet.

Table of Units:

Hoof: 4 inches
Length: Meter
Stone::kilogram
Toms::Newtons*
Flare::Joule
Flicker::Watt
Ray::Horsepower
Spark::Volt
Zap::Amp
Square::Bit
Cube::Byte

TBD
Magnetic Flux
Luminous Intensity

*Couldn’t help myself with that one. What? It’s named after a famous equestrian physicist, not a rock, I promise!

Equestrian Military Rank System and Insignia

You’ll notice there are fewer grades for each bracket. That’s because the Equestrian military is small, and promotions are much harder to come by. By this logic, E-3 in Equestrian rank is more equivalent to something like E-5 in the United States military, O-2 more like O-3, and so on and so forth.

Enlisted Grade:

(Buck) Private: One Star
Corporal: Two Stars
Sergeant: Three Stars
Stable Sergeant: Four Stars
Senior Sergeant: Five Stars
Command Sergeant: Six Stars

Officer Grade: Additionally, number of stars indicate grade (years rank has been held). Blank is Grade One, one star is Grade Two, and so on.

Lieutenant: New Moon
Captain: Crescent Moon
Commander: Half Moon
Colonel: Full Moon
Branch General: Half Rising Sun
General: Full Sun

Extended Setlist:

Format: Song Title, Artist, section of story applied to.
This is mostly for what I listened to when I wrote it and/or what I would have liked to add, but didn’t to avoid seriously over-musicing my story. If you’re the kind of brony that likes to read everything to music, this section is for you. Those chapters which I hand-wrote were mostly in class or in other situations where I couldn’t be listening to music, so there is no further track.

Chapter One

N/A
Chapter Two

N/A
Chapter Three

N/A
Chapter Four

N/A
Chapter Five

‘Warrior’, Disturbed, If the first song in-fic finishes

‘Undaunted’, Adrenaline Mob, see above note

‘Warrior’s Call’, Volbeat, see above note

‘Bulletproof’, Five Finger Death Punch, see above note
Chapter Six

I wish I could record each and every one of those songs they play...the last one I have written into a song, but only an acoustic version. If anypony is interested, I might record a campfire version of it?
Chapter Seven

‘Haze’, Device, Spitfire leaves for the theatre

‘You Think You Know’, Device, Spitfire argues with Shadow

‘Walk Away’, Five Finger Death Punch, After Spitfire leaves until they reach Olive Grove
Chapter Eight (all are for before the first text break, unless otherwise noted)

‘My Heartstrings Come Undone’, Demon Hunter

‘Silver’, Woods of Ypres

‘Shards of Love’ Woods of Ypres

‘4 AM’, Avenged Sevenfold

‘I Will Fight by Your Side’, Bagpipe Brony, While Flying to Base
Chapter Nine

‘The Warrior Song’, Sean Householder, Opening Quote

‘Eagle Claw Pt. 1’, Sean Murray, First scene

Assorted Metallica, Running to the kitchens

‘Aint Your Fairytale’, Sonata Arctica, Blowing cover and clearing the guard towers

‘Absolute Zero’, Stone Sour, barricading the doors and first rounds fired
Chapter Ten

‘St. James’, Piano cover by Dadebryant

Author’s Notes:

Looking back on all of this, and turning to look ahead, writing this story has been an amazing journey in my life. I started the first planning of this story a few weeks after finishing Field Training (boot camp), putting the first roots of it a solid sixteen months ago. For the two years prior to that, I was hell-bent on becoming an Special Tactics Officer, or STO (more or less the Air Force version of the SEALs). I had trained hard for it, but never felt at the bottom of my heart that is was the right thing. I always knew that if I managed to achieve that dream, I would be lonely, for there would be no time or place for anyone else in my life.

It was a sorrow in the bottom of my soul, mixing something that felt so right, and so wrong at the same time. Out of that was where Shadow Wing was born. Most people at first assume I was self-inserting with his character, and while there may be some truth in that, it is not correct. Shadow Wing is not me, but rather who I was afraid I would become. His nature is not wrong, and he is a good pony, but he was lonely, and couldn’t do anything about it. I diverged from the road that would have led me to him over a year ago. Now, I have a very special somepony who is the light of my life, and very soon a job as an engineer or a cyber officer.

When I started writing, this story turned into a practice of writing ‘show don’t tell’ for me, and my end goal was to avoid writing from the perspective of the main character as long as possible. And then it grew, and grew some more. I learned how to write with this story, and I’m sure it will be an ongoing process.

Getting in character was always a huge part of the story for me. I’m not a very emotional person on the best of days, so I had to trick myself into feeling like what the character should have been. For chapters one and three, I’d always work out before writing. Four and five, I wrote as much of it as I could while wearing my ABU’s. Six and seven were done while writing and recording ‘Solus’, and boy did it ever wear me out. Oh, and if you didn’t figure it out by the end of the story, this tale was meant slightly more for the military bronies. All kinds of little stuff in there that you won’t get unless you’ve spent some time in uniform.

Something I constantly got asked while working on this story was ‘Hey, what are you working on in that notebook?’ As noted above, a great deal of this story was done by hand. It was simply easier for me to do, being a full time student. I couldn’t always get away with having my laptop out, and it was too much of a distraction. Though, one minute while the teacher is bringing up slides, or five minutes while waiting for class? That adds up over a year. Chapters one through four were completely handwritten for their first drafts, and chapters five and seven were both half handwritten. On the flip side, chapters six, eight, nine, and ten were completely done on the computer. Don’t know if there is a difference in the end product, I just saw it as a way to get more work done.

I’d like to throw in words of thanks for the small host of people who did editing on a case by case basis. First words go to Fernin, who put up with my standard-issue mary-sue self-inserting crappy fanfiction long enough to edit my first chapter. Next goes to APC, for a really honest reality check on what I was doing with Shadow Wing as a character, and making sure he wasn’t called something much worse. Then there is my friend Jenny, for explaining to me that I really didn’t need to freak out over writing female characters. Much thanks to Spangle (come back we miss you) from FOB Equestria, for checking my first two chapters for typos, and egging me on to finish my work. And of course, to my girlfriend Beth (Ash-Sheathed Shadows) for her constant encouragement and typo checks, as well as her most amusing anger at Spitfire through most of the story.

A guy who deserves his own spot would certainly be Luke, who got me into fiction writing after I got home from basic. He’s the poor soul who put up with trying to teach me the basics of fiction writing (show don’t tell, sentence structure, etc.) when all I could write well were programming codes and engineering reports. He also put up with my pony addiction and even encouraged my fanfiction writing.

For Alex, who has been the best and worst influence in my life. He got me into the show, then the fandom, then listened to me narrate the first version of this story as I imagined it for three hours while we climbed Pikes Peak together. He was the one who somehow convinced me that he liked it enough that I should put it down on paper. So I did.

My editor, Dizziestbeef, has been a constant companion and friend through almost the entire work. Constantly off topic, tangenting to things such a military life, cool technology, complaining about everything in the world that _NTJ personalities such as ourselves don’t like...it’s been great. I know most people when they first meet him come running back to me and go: ‘Sage, your editor is a jerk!’ He’s not a jerk, he’s just very blunt, and very honest. Most people can’t handle that, but it makes him the most valuable editor I could have (and there to give some very pointed instructions on various life issues too). My fondest memory is of giving him the beginning to chapter eight, and seeing his message back on skype not thirty seconds later: ‘WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!’ It still cracks me up how we met and got working together.

At the time, I’d just started on my position as a fan-fiction reviewer for FOB Equestria, and was meeting the staff. Also new to the fan-fiction department was Dizziestbeef, a young Air Force brony like myself, who I found to be utterly interesting. I somehow seemed to annoy him by my very existence, and was determined to figure out why. At the same time, I noticed his reviews were (by my standards at the time) very harsh, and critical, so I vowed to not allow him to ever find my fan works. This turned into a challenge, and I later wound up giving him the link. He came back three minutes later with a list of things that needed fixing, so I asked if he’d read over the whole chapter. He did, and the edits were great, so I asked him to do the next...and the next, and soon it became a constant thing. Now, we’re currently working on several projects, so the stories are not gonna stop, even if he is getting shipped all over the world soon. (And I’m still jealous you’re getting TDY to Antarctica you lucky jerk!)

Now, to address the question that every author gets asked (I hope I get asked this) if they write a good story. Yes, I am planning on follow-up works! The first one is a prequel, focused on key items in the backstory of Shadow Wing. I’ve currently got two chapters written, and will start putting it out soon. I also have a sequel outlined...but it’s somewhat different, and we’ll get there when we get there.

Bonus points if you figured out the joke about Shadow’s middle name, the allusion with the colors of Timberwolf Team, and that the Harley Flock Model Forty-Seven rifle was actually that ‘HAY-K 47.’ Also, the title of the story and the chapters go together for all but chapters nine and ten, with an implied ‘it’s’ in between. E.g. ‘It’s not you they fear, it’s your tough love.’

Hope you enjoyed the read, and I hope to see you all again soon on the next story!

‘red Sage

Dominic Allen Everson

Your Tough Love

I'd never flown like that before. That freedom was unlike anything I'd ever felt. The speed, the adrenaline, the wind in my mane! I liked it--a lot! Turns out the only thing I liked more than flying fast--was winning! Most people thought that the sonic rainboom was just an old mare's tale. But that day, the day I discovered racing, I proved that the legends were true! I made the impossible happen.

-Rainbow Dash, upon first recorded breaking of the sound barrier in Equestrian history

EEEEEEP-EEEEEEP-EEEEEEEP-EEEEEEEP-EEEEEEP-TWHACK-THUD!

The alarm's cheerful morning cry was cut short as a cyan hoof slammed the snooze button, and the rest of the pegasus swiftly barreled out of bed onto the floor. She made a less than graceful landing, covered with a blanket and landing on her side, eliciting an 'oof' from the mummified pony. Dash was sorer than she could ever remember, but it didn't stop her from wrestling free from the comforter and chucking it back onto the bed.

A quick jump and a toss of her rainbow tail and she was grabbing a blue and yellow uniform out of her closet, sliding it on with more excitement than her tired body was willing to agree with. She paused for a moment with the goggles in her hooves, running one along the side of the right lens until she hit the engraving on the side: R. Dash #15. Even the light of the morning just before sunrise couldn't compare with the glow of pride within. That glow washed over Dash as she grabbed her bag and bounded out the door, taking to the skies over Cloudsdale. Within moments she was hurtling toward the academy. There were technically airspeed limits, but nopony else was out, and it wasn’t as if someone was going to catch a Wonderbolt to tell her to slow down. Only three minutes passed before she was zooming over the mesa-top, arcing toward the practice field.

Two weeks of practice had gone by, and Dash was the first ‘bolt to the training field this morning, just like each before it. Heck, she had even beaten Spitfire there. Showing up early wasn't earning her any kudos now that she was in, but the thrill of actually being there was enough on its own. It didn't matter that nopony else was there to see her strutting around the clouds; it was a dream come true. Today didn't have any showing off in store though, because that would involve walking with those sore legs and flanks, and on tired hooves. The last few weeks had been the greatest emotional high and the worst physical stress of her life. With a soft puff of displaced clouds, Dash touched down by the edge, and shrugged her bag off.

Flapping noises heralded the arrival of several ponies to the field. Being the ‘bucking new pony’ was never a problem with the 'bolts as nopony ever hesitated to be social with her. Dash looked up, smile beaming, to see Fleetfoot, Rapidfire, Soarin’, and Eagle Claw winging their way over the cloud barrier onto the field. The faintest tinge of blush rose in her cheeks, and she slowly turned away. With the latter two, being too social might be a bit of a problem. Soarin' had always been a bit of an item for Dash, but now that they fell into the same social class they were fair game for each other, and Soarin' knew that too. Spitfire discouraged in-team dating, but that hadn't stopped Eagle Claw and Skyline Spirit.

The small flock landed around Dash with a chorus of greetings. The conversation flowed from the traditional bragging about how much they hurt from practice the day before to pondering the upcoming workout, and of course the inevitable discussion over the activities planned for after practice. Dash waited for a moment to inject herself into the conversation, but stopped as Soarin’ started to speak.

“Well, I know exactly what has to happen this evening. We MUST go to Cavaliers! They have huge sandwiches, sky soup, red potatoes from Zebrica, the best hayfries and...ok you can stop laughing now.”

“That’s an awful lot of words for ‘pie’. Come off it Soarin’, we know it’s all you think about, but did you honestly forget the concert coming to town tonight? It’s not every month they get a mass cloud-walk spell going so we can enjoy their noise. Your dinner can wait for another time.” Nods of assent greeted Rapidfire’s suggestion.

Soarin' shrugged, and agreed. “Alright, but I'll hold you guys to it later. I promise you won't regret it.”

They fell silent as Spitfire streaked over the cloud walls of the field, leading the rest of the team. While the other three looked up and hurried over to join in the for usual warm up, Soarin' tapped Dash on the shoulder. She jumped at the sudden contact, and inhaled sharply.

“Oh! Sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you...anyways...there isn't a rule that all the ‘bolts have to go to the same after practice hangout. We just do that to help new guys like you and Eagle get acclimated. Anyways...so I don't really like concerts much and was going to go to dinner instead, and was...uh hoping that you'd like to join me.”

“Yes! I mean yes, I would!” Dash gasped, almost exploding with excitement. Soarin's eyes went a little wide at the volume of the response, but his smile was almost as toothy as Dash's.

“Great, I'll see you after practice!”

“'Bolts on me!” Spitfire's voice echoed over the whole field, commanding the scattered flock of athletes front and center for the warm up. The team circled up and waited expectantly for their captain to begin the workout, but Spitfire didn't call out the usual overhead wing pull. Instead, she grinned knowingly, looking around the group with an ominous glint in her eyes.

“Alright colts and fillies, it’s the last Thursday of the month, and you know what that means!” All of the team began to grumble as Spitfire continued. “Today an old buddy of mine is gonna kick your flanks into shape. That’s right! Shadow Wing is in town and has time just for you. So get ready, it's gonna be a hard next few days.” Speech ended, Spitfire trotted out to take up a spot with the rest of her team.

Dash poked Soarin' in the side, earning a slight shiver from the stallion. “What?”

“Oh, that’s right, you haven’t met the conditioning coach yet. He's an old pal of Spitfire's from back in her flight school. Every week or two, Spits gets him to come over and coach us, in the loosest possible definition of ‘coach.’” Soarin' pointed up to the far end of the field as a blur shot over the edge and streaked over to land where Spitfire had been standing moments before.

By the time the little bits of clouds shaken up by Shadow’s landing had settled, he had already dropped a set of faded and worn brown cloth saddlebags on the cloud floor and was shaking Spitfire's hoof. His voice was quiet, but it carried all the way over to where Dash was standing next to Eagle.

“Well hello, Ms. Spitfire. Is your team ready?”

“About as ready as we will ever be.” Spitfire grinned at him.

“Very good. Good morning Skyline Spirit, how are you? Rapidfire? Good to see you again.” As Shadow went about greeting each of the team, Dash took the time to get a good look at him. He was...not quite white, but perhaps just a little bit green. What little mane and tail he had were a deep blue and windswept. He was a little short for a stallion and, and...was standing right in front of her. As he drew close, Dash had to crane her neck a little forward.

“You must be the new recruits.” Shadow's face twitched with a ghost of a smile. “And your names?”

“Eagle Claw.” The new stallion stood up to his full height and looked Shadow in the eyes, giving him a very aggressive hoofshake. When the two were done, the coach turned to look up at Dash, and held out his foreleg for her.

“Rainbow Dash.” Dash returned the hoofshake, but the whole time she kept her eyes on his forehooves. They were scuffed and beaten up, with a few odd small holes and cuts. Several discolored spots made her quickly let go of the shake and put her hoof back down. On his left foreleg he wore a bulky watch with a digital display and a bunch of buttons.

“Alright, take two minutes, stretch everything. We've got a long day ahead of us.” Shadow's bark startled Dash into the air. At his words the team threw themselves down onto the cloud field and starting pulling on every muscle in the pegasus anatomy with fervor. Dash didn't really know what to stretch first, so she settled for a wing-back joint stretch. She had just gotten both sides loose when Shadow began yelling again.

“Get into two lines in front of me. Alright! One hundred pushups, let’s go!” The clouds raced to meet her muzzle as Dash sprawled into the position, ready for whatever challenge was headed her way. “One-two-three-one! One-two-three-two!”

Dash paled. He gave one count for every two pushups they did. They were going to start the morning with two hundred pushups? She felt the burn in her forelegs growing harsh at thirty-three, and accidentally let a thought of giving up get by before forcing herself to look up at her teammates. Several had already dropped their form and were just pushing enough to get by. Shadow was still moving like a machine. Dash grinned and redoubled her efforts.

“First pony to quit does ten laps around the field and then starts over! Seventy-eight! One-two-three-seventy-nine!” Dash fell into a haze of pain, but refused to be the first one out. Months and years had gone into preparing for this, her career. That even meant helping her old friend Applejack with farm work in exchange for leg strength training. If some stupid coach thought two hundred pushups would slow her down, he had another thing coming. She wasn't the only one to decide to tough it out; all of the ‘bolts pulled through.

“…three-ninety-nine! One-two-three-hundred!” Shadow barked. Rainbow Dash prepared to collapse into the soft clouds below her hooves and catch her breath when Shadow called out the next exercise.

“Wing pushups! One hundred!”

The hell? Dash groaned, unwillingly mimicking the rest of the 'bolts as they put their wings down on the clouds and lifted up their aching forelegs. Shadow yelled out his count again.

The chant wore on and her wings went numb. Dash looked up and saw the rest of her team still pushing out the reps, and decided she could do them too. She looked at Shadow. He was still holding himself straight, body level and eyes forward as he counted. She looked back at her team. Fleetfoot was shaking and giving out one slow down and up of her wings every time Shadow barked out another count.

“Thirty-eight! One-two-three-Thirty-nine--You! Ten laps, go! I didn't tell the rest of you to stop! One-two-three-Forty!” Aces High pulled himself off his stomach and began to flap his way around the practice field, but Shadow wasn't done giving discipline.

“Anypony else who quits gets to do them over too!” Dash looked up to see Ace unsteady in flight, his emerald tail drooping as he turned the first corner. He probably had been out drinking the night before, and deserved the extra workout, but that wasn’t important now. She didn't know if she could finish another twenty, well, forty wing pushups. Wings shaking under her, Dash finished the last five reps wobbling back and forth, and stood up in time to see Ace arrive back to the group. Green hair and blue Wonderbolt uniform met the cloud turf in a panting heap.

“Another hundred for you, on your wings now!” Dash watched helplessly as Ace fell onto the turf and started pushing weakly.

“The rest of you will be doing laps of the field until he finishes. Get moving!” Without waiting for a reply, Shadow took off and led the team in their flight at a brisker pace than anypony's wings wanted to go. Dash slipped into the break in the air behind Valkyrie and followed as they raced around the track outlining the field. Her wings burned through the workout, but she just focused on following the golden tail in front of her.

Around Dash, the rest of the bolts had eyes only for their hurting wingpony. Ace was pushing with all the motivation he was getting from Shadow, who somehow had the breath to yell at the lone 'bolt while leading the flight. Valkyrie stopped abruptly and Dash rammed face first into her rump, knocking the other mare onto her face. The older ‘bolt frowned at Dash as she offered her a hoof up, but neglected to comment.

“Water break!”

The ‘bolts dived onto their bags and pulled out the precious liquid. Dash greedily chugged from her bottle, worried that their bizarre trainer would cut off the break before she'd gotten enough. Despite her fears, Shadow trotted over to his saddlebags and got a drink too. After finishing, he waited until the ‘bolts had drunk all they wanted. When the last bottle was set down, he called out.

“Alright fillies and gentle-colts, now that our warm-up is done, we can get to some real flying! Practice ends at the usual time, so there should be time for each of you to finish fifteen laps of Cloudsdale before our cooldown. The usual challenge stands; if any of your team manages to beat me...” Shadow paused and rolled his eyes ever so slightly. “I'll tell you my middle name. I still have no idea why you want to know it so badly.”

Dash perked up at those words. A usual challenge meant that none of the team had ever beaten it before, so Dash could prove herself by being the first. She eagerly raced after Shadow as he led the team off the field and toward the edge of town. Her wings burned, but desire for victory burned hotter. The daydream of coming in ahead of Shadow and the team congratulating her was just starting to waft into her mind when a tap on her shoulder brought her back to reality.

“Gonna try for it, kid?” Spitfire winked at Dash.

“I don’t try, boss! I win!” With that boast to seal her enthusiasm, Dash sped off after Shadow. Slicing through the air like a meteor through the heavens, she dove into pursuit. Shadow banked left to begin circling the cloud city and Dash pulled even harder to take up the inside of the impromptu flight track. If Shadow was at all troubled by her taking the slightly shorter part of the flight, he didn't let it show.

“Best of luck to you, Ms. Dash.”

There was only one answer to something so sappy.

“I won't need it!”

Dash zipped ahead, feeling the wind rush over the goggles and through her mane. Though she only ever went supersonic in dives, the wind resistance was already building up in front of her, along with the faintest shimmer in the air. Looking behind her, Dash saw Spitfire leading the rest of the team. What she didn't see was Shadow. Whipping her head forward once more, she saw the pale pegasus barely keeping up with her, his forelegs just in line with the tip of her tail. Dash swore and strained harder to gain space. How the hell is he still going like this?

The wonders of Cloudsdale passed unnoticed to her left as Dash put her wings into it. With a supreme effort of will and much shortness of breath, she pushed herself even harder. She could only imagine that he had to be hurting more. Clinging to that thought like a little gem, she was lost in thought when Shadows voice, barely audible over the wind broke her concentration like so much glass.

“You’re fast.”

Whipping her head to the right, she saw that her prick of a coach had somehow caught up. For all her struggle, and he still somehow had the air to get cheeky. She gave him the one thing she could think to scream over the rush of the air. “Shut up!”

If Shadow had heard her, his only acknowledgment was holding the brutal pace he started on. Dash couldn't keep up much longer. She was a sprint flier to begin with, not a distance pony, and the 'warm up' had taken a large toll on her normal strength and élan. She fell behind with an exasperated growl, roaring her frustration at the stallion who had somehow got ahead of her.

As the morning wore on, Dash lost the lead she had gained by sprinting the first lap with Shadow. Spitfire passed her halfway through the third lap, both of them panting too hard to bandy any encouragement other than a quick 'keep going.’ Shadow had long since gotten too far ahead for Dash to see.

As Spitfire was starting to take a sizable lead on Dash, Soarin', Night Flier, and Endless Skies caught up with Dash.

“Hey, rainbow girl! I know you can go faster than that!” yelled Night Flier, his voice gruff and low.

“Aw stuff it, Buzz, and catch me!” In spite of herself, Dash smiled.

Night Flier kept his mane cut to a fine stubble, claiming it made him faster. He was the polar opposite of Dash, quiet and humble, but still darn fast for being one of the oldest on the team. After Dash had joined, he had spoken nothing but warm encouragement and a lot of advice to her. Some of it was suspect, but that would be something to test later.

“You should know better than to run off like that at the start.”

“So sue me.” Dash attempted to shrug but was too exhausted to fluidly pull off the motion.

Buzz grinned as if to say 'I told you so' as the trio passed her. Dash usually didn't get angry when Spitfire got ahead of her as she was the captain, but even after finding out that the Wonderbolts really were all very, very fast she couldn't get over being passed easily. She was about to yell again when Soarin' turned back and winked at her. The air caught in her throat, and Dash forced herself to breath again. The anger at slipping up and losing more speed was soon replace with gratitude, as Soarin’ wouldn’t be able to look back and make her blush. She had been staring at his rump after all.

The last lap for Dash found her underneath Celestia's sun at its full height in the sky, adding the sting of sweat on her neck to the ache in her back and wings. They hurt like they hadn't since she had broken her wing back in Ponyville. The joints throbbed with each oscillation of her aching muscles, and she no longer held her back up straight, allowing her tail to droop. She'd lost count of how many of her teammates had passed her, but now only finishing the race mattered.

Shadow was waiting at the start point, directing the exhausted fliers back to the practice field. Dash flew past without a word, panting hard.

Once they had all returned, in various states of composure, Spitfire gave the normal end of practice call.

“Getdownheredammit!”

Silence briefly ensued as the pegasi all looked around the empty sky -- all of them were on the ground, including Endless Skies. While the normally tireless Skies would still be doing slow laps while the rest of the team rested, today he was belly up on the clouds like everypony else.

Shadow smiled faintly, and resumed the quiet tone he had used when first greeting the team. “Alright, you crazy ponies, you all know how this day ends. As many pushups as you can do, as many wing pushups as you can do. Have at it.”

Without further ado, Shadow plunked himself down on the clouds and stated heaving his body up and down. Dash grudgingly followed the rest of the team as they started to push with whatever forelegs they had left. She made it to thirty of her count, not that horrid double count, before her forelegs shuddered and gave out on her. With a huff she fell on her stomach, refusing to get on her wings until Shadow did. The slave driver himself was still going, but a grimace was plastered over his face.

The rest of the team seemed to have the same idea that Dash did, and they all watched him for another few minutes until he started shaking. With a growl he shoved himself into the air, landing on his wings and starting right where he left off. He speared the exhausted ponies with a merciless glare.

“Hey! Get to your wing set. You can slack off after.”

Dash mentally swore at Shadow until the vulgarities and exertion cooled her off. Sated, she took a deep breath and redoubled her efforts to shove her tired body from and to the ground. When shortly afterwards her wings gave out too, Dash found herself again on her belly and almost up to her eyebrows in cloud. Shadow paused from his reps to look up and see all of the ‘bolts doing a good imitation of Rainbow Dash.

“Well I guess I'm your show now. Wanna count for me?”

Spitfire got to her hooves and shouted at Shadow like he did for her team.

“One-two-three-”

“One!” roared Shadow as Spitfire hit the end of her cadence.

Soarin' took up the count, then Double Dare, then Tameless, and the rest of the team followed suit, screaming in whatever voices they had left, yelling Shadow on. All except Dash. She started, fuming at that stallion who had somehow won the adoration her team after spending the day personally showing them all up and making them suffer.

Shadow collapsed amidst cheers; Dash spat on the clouds at her hooves. Pulling himself up, Shadow spoke out in a normal tone of voice, a sudden change after all the shouting.

“Ok, rest of the day's all yours unless your captain has anything else for you, but I'd highly recommend stretching out real well. If anypony needs help or advice on stretching a particular muscle be sure to let me know.”

“You’re free,” added Spitfire. A cheer went up through the pegasi, and several immediately left for the lockers.

“Hey, coach!” called out Falcon Cry. “Full Hoof Death Buck is in town tonight! We know you’d love to come with us!”

“Uhh...well I’m busy this evening Falc, thank you for the offer though.”

Dash snorted and dived on her sports bag. Slinging it over her back she winged her way off the field, body protesting the whole time. Concerts? Ha, I'm going back and getting some rest.

The exhaustion made it difficult for Dash to hold the keys right in her mouth to open the door, but somehow she made it inside and dropped her bag down by the door. After a quick shower, she took the phone off the hook and slipped under her covers, passing out no sooner than she hit the pillow.

The alarm went off too early, and like the morning before Dash slammed it into silence. The swing of her leg required to shut up the gadget sent pain running down her shoulder and sides. Gingerly, she slid the covers back to get a look at her sore hide. It didn’t appear any different, but the angry hisses of tired muscles were right underneath. With a huff she got up and put on a clean Wonderbolts uniform, grabbed her bag from where she left it by the door, and after filling up her water bottle, began to make her way to the practice field.

Dash had been sore plenty of mornings before, but today was just ridiculous. She was flopping around in the air like an old mare, wings not really wanting to obey her. It was the same old struggle. The muscles were there and working fine; she just had to ignore the ache. With her focus on blotting out the pain, Dash barely registered the other ponies around her as she landed in the practice field. She blinked as a blue shod leg was waved a few times in front of her face.

“Hey Dash, you there?” Soarin’ cheerfully inquired.

“Uhm yea...” she responded.

Dash glanced up to see Soarin' looking at her. Concern wilted from his features as he saw her eyes, quickly replaced by something more like irritation.

“So what happened to you after practice? I tried calling and it didn't go through.”

“Oh I was tired so I shut it off and went to sleep.” Dash didn’t understand what Soarin’ was talking about, or why he was being so confrontational.

“You didn't forget about anything you planned on doing later yesterday did you?”

Dash stared at Soarin' for a moment before she realized what he was talking about. The blood rushed to her cheeks and she stammered, “I ahhmmmm ummm was really tired and I forgot, I'm sorry, Soarin'!”

Soarin' looked at her, equal measures of annoyance, exasperation and amusement in his eyes. Dash struggled to come up with something more to say.

“Look, Soarin', I'm really really sorry, I was super tired and angry after practice, and just wasn't thinking.”

“Oh it's alright, Dash.” Soarin' dropped his frown and put a smile back on. “I really have a hard time focusing on anything when I get too tired too. Just don't take it out on me, ok?”

Dash nodded and smiled as wide as she could, but Soarin' apparently had nothing else to say.

“'Bolts on me!” Everypony flocked to Spitfire and imitated their leader as she ran them through a few stretches.

It was but a few scarce minutes before Shadow returned in the same fashion as before: old saddlebags strapped on tight, bulky watch on his ankle, intensely blank expression on his face. He dropped his bag down and trotted over to Spitfire, who was sitting on her rump, one foreleg bent across her middle.

“Are all of you all stretched out?”

“Not yet.”

Shadow regarded Spitfire for a second and then spoke up. “Well stretch out real well. Today is going to be harder than usual.”

The team didn't need to be warned twice and loosened and limbered up for a scarce few minutes before Spitfire stood up and nodded to Shadow, who began to yell.

“Alright, hover! Now land your hind legs like so.” He was poised such that his back was vertical in the air, rear hooves planted on the clouds while his wings beat like a hummingbird to hold him in place. Dash stared for a second before the call to workout shook the thoughts from her mind. “Now, squats! One hundred! One-two-three-one!”

If her old friend Applejack had tried something like this, she might have had the strength to finish all the reps. Dash on the other hoof had no such chance. Pride alone kept her going until she fell on her face. The moment she did, Shadow lashed out.

“Both of you! Ten laps now! Forty-one-one-two-three-Forty-two!”

Dash looked up to see Fleetfoot also shoving herself back up to a standing posture. They both wordlessly flew their laps at high speed. Fleetfoot was also a sprinter, and the both wanted to spend as little time as possible with all the attention on them. The air shook in their wake, and they returned to find Shadow only thirty counts ahead of when they left.

“Seventy-one-one-two-three-Seventy-two-one-two-three-Seventy-three!”

The two mares landed behind the group, and began a desperate attempt to catch back up. Given what got them into that trouble in the first place, it was futile, but that wasn't supposed to be a word Dash could use anymore as a ‘bolt. Soon they found the whole team flying around them, Shadow screaming at them to keep going. Pausing only to rest every ten reps by unspoken consent only earned them more noise from their taskmaster, and eventually the rest of the team.

“Move your flanks! Come on you can do it!”

“Yeah Fleetfoot, push on through!”

“Go rainbow girl, go!”

Ten more...then five more...two...and the team was there by them, panting. Dash looked up to see another blue-shod hoof being offered. She took it gratefully as Soarin' pulled her to her hooves.

“Water break!” screamed out Shadow.

Despite her experience with cramps the day before, Dash again chugged from her bottle, greedily sucking in the life-giving water. As with the day before, Shadow waited until all the ‘bolts had finished their break, before roaring at them again. “Alright, everypony on the end of the field.” He waited for them to get on the line, landing next to Dash. “Suicides! GO!”

Dash was off, and then back, whipping around from the first white line made in the clouds so fast that her head was spinning. Then she was off again, zipping through the air to put a hoof down on the second line, followed by a spin in the other direction and racing back. It was those moments she lived for, when that little bit of rainbow contrail streamed out behind her during the full field length sprint. The rest of the team couldn't keep up, and she was showing just how she was the best flyer in Equestria! Before she knew it, she was sitting at the end, huffing and smiling. The pulsing rush of the blood in her veins made her alive.

“I was wrong yesterday. You aren’t just fast, you’re incredible!”

Dash jumped, having suddenly been made aware that somepony else was next to her. Shadow inhaled rapidly a few times before speaking again, trying to get his breath back from sprint.

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you, Ms. Dash.”

Dash reeled at seeing him. How did he beat me? She was about to ask him when Spitfire landed, followed moments later by all of the rest of the team. Shadow lifted up his head, and roared out for all the heavens to hear.

“Again!”

Shadow took off without another word. Dash was right after him, this time taking careful note of where her competition was. It was hard for her to make out who was ahead most of the time, let alone where Shadow could possibly be gaining ground on her. The race turned in a dance of rainbow and cyan against green and blue. Running short on air had never stopped Dash from trying to finish a sprint, and so when she put her hoof down at the finish, there were too many stars in front of her eyes to tell if she won or Shadow did. She fell down on her rump and started to take back in all that air that she lost.

Dash had just managed to stand up when she realized the rest of the ‘bolts had made it back, which could only mean that--

“Again!”

Oh ponyfeathers. Dash went through the sprints one more time, silently hoping that Shadow wouldn't call another. She was only still ahead of the rest of the team because all the others were just as worn out as she was. Landing at the end only made the anger in her gut grow. Shadow was waiting yet again for her, having somehow gotten ahead, and despite punishing everypony with this workout he seemed to be taking no fair share of the pain. Looking back across the field, she spied Falcon Cry sluggishly trying to complete the exercise, and her rage boiled over. Through her exhaustion and shortness of breath she stood up and yelled at Shadow.

“You think you're so good huh? How about you try an exercise in my field huh? I challenge you to a sprint dive race!”

Shadow shrugged and glanced as Dash’s panting teammates. “I don't see any reason why not. It's about time the team had a break.” He paused to take several deep breaths, and on the last one cried out, “break time!” Turning back to Dash, Shadow rubbed his chin for a moment. “Normally the challenged pony gets to pick the rules, but I'm intrigued. What do you have in mind?”

Dash spat the words out at him. “A simple downhill sprint race, we start two miles up, and go straight down. First to the bottom wins.”

Shadow looked thoughtful for a second, and then nodded. “And if I win you'll have to tell me your middle name then, Ms. Dash.” Baring just a hint of a smile he turned to Spitfire.

“Excuse me, Captain. One of your team wants a personal training session, so we'll just be a few minutes.”

Spitfire nodded as the two took off, and as the training field shrunk beneath them, Dash could see Twitchy Hooves reach into her bag and pull out a portable computer and something that looked suspiciously like a video camera. All the better that we'll have a video of me beating this jerk.

When they both stopped to perch on a cloud high above the practice field, the air was cold and rare, biting at Dash's ears and nose. All of Cloudsdale was spread out far below them, lumps of cumulus and arcs of rainbows crisscrossing all around the mass that formed the city. Here was her home, here she would win. She turned to Shadow, who appeared to be marveling at the view, and began to count.

“On my ‘go’. Three. Two. One. Go!”

The two pegasi dove off the cloud, forehooves and heads down, tails and hindlegs back to grace themselves from every bit of drag possible. Dash spared half a moment to note his posture, which she’d never see on a sprint pony before. Well that’s stupid of him. He's fast! But not fast enough! Dash grinned wide as she pulled ahead, a compressed hemisphere of air forming in front of her, gradually turning into a cone. With every beat of her heart and wings she pushed at that wall, willing it to yield to her desire for speed, her thirst for victory. The following slam in the air never failed to make Dash smile even wider, like she did the first time she broke the sound barrier. With a blinding rainbow flash, she rent the barrier in front of her and went even faster.

The sonic rainboom was her domain. Nopony else could do anything like it. Once she breached that barrier, there would be no way Shadow would ever catch up. Ha, and he was supposed to be good. I am the best flyer in Equestria, not some stupid little--

Something tore past her left side. Every ounce of thought was thrown away as Dash was thrown into a spiral so suddenly only pure instinct saved her from going into an irrecoverable spin. Her curses were lost in the wind as she righted herself to find a sonic...well it couldn't be called a rainboom, because it was the same blue as Shadow's mane. Realizing her jaw was agape, Dash slammed it shut and dove down in pursuit. This time no sonic rainboom could cheer her, the rainbow colors were muted by the darkness still hanging in the air, a shadow in the sky.

She landed with a resounding 'whumph' in the middle of the field. The rest of the team was all yammering, at her, and at Shadow, but Dash didn't have the ears for it. All she could focus on was Shadow. Shoving through the noisy pegasi she found herself standing in front of him, a small circle of open space for the two racers.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? I’m clocked as the fastest sprint flyer in equestria, and you threw me into a spin!” Dash reared up on her hindlegs and struck Shadow squarely across the muzzle. He was knocked back by the force of the kick, falling on his back. Shadow pushed himself to his hooves silently as Dash felt herself being pulled away. She turned to see an indignant Spitfire glaring at her like an angry manticore. The flame-maned mare dragged Rainbow Dash away from the group and every eye followed them. Spitfire didn't say a word until they hit the edge of the field.

“The hell do you think you're doing?! If you want to make a foal of yourself that's fine, but you will not hurt a pony who is spending his time to do something as difficult as training a team like mine! Am I clear?”

Dash was barely paying attention to Spitfire. Instead she stared at Shadow, who was already running the team through more sprints. As she watched, a little blood began to run out of his nostrils which he wiped away with a hoof.

“Are you even listening to me? Look, kid, stay over here until you've cooled off, then come back and finish the workout.” Spitfire was about to head back to the team, then turned back around to give a withering glare. “However you make it up to Shadow is between you and him, but you've also embarrassed the Wonderbolts and me by your actions. I'm disappointed in you, Rainbow Dash.”

Spitfire turned her back on Dash and slowly walked back to the team. In the distance, the ‘bolts were fully occupied with the next exercise, apparently a timed hover. Dash felt a little mollified by her dressing down from the team captain, but she was still pissed at Shadow, an anger that didn't seem to be going away no matter how long she waited. Out of boredom she winged her way back to the group just in time to hear Shadow call for the final workout.

“Alright, drop!” Shadow’s voice grated against Dash’s ears. She’d heard it too much in the past two days.

As Dash fell onto her forelegs, the shock of working the sore muscles almost made her let go of her rage. Almost. That pain was there because Shadow drove her to work that hard. After a few moments she fell down, legs unwilling to do more. Too soon she was back up on her aching wings, and even sooner fell back down. Around her, the rest of the ‘bolts were screaming and cheering for Shadow just like the day before. When they finally stopped, Dash dragged herself over to the locker room. She dropped her bag, shucked off her sweaty uniform, and stepped into the last shower stall.

The rest of the mares filtered in, and then out almost as fast, eager to be off to whatever they had planned for the rest of the day. Some of them were talking about Dash's stunt earlier, but she ignored them and focused on the stream of hot water rushing over her face and mane, the droplets running down her legs and tail and steam matting her coat. The water was hot, almost burning her, giving her something to keep her from thinking about how she'd just been beaten at her own game and received a dressing down by her childhood idol. She remained there for a long while, trying to let the shower wash those problems away. Perhaps she would have stayed there alone for an hour had somepony not opened the locker room door.

“Hey, Dash, are you ok?” Soarin's voice was somewhat muted by all the steam in the room, but it still shocked Dash, who stopped the shower and toweled off as fast as she could.

“Uhm yeah, I'm fine.” She slung the towel around her neck, and walked out to find Soarin' over by the lockers, clean and changed out of his Wonderbolts suit. He looked a little concerned, and watched her as she put her towel and sweat-soaked suit in her bag. “Why are you here?”

“Well...most everypony on the team was so awed at seeing two sonic...booms at one go that they wouldn't stop talking about them.”

“So what about it?” Dash spat back.

“Well that wasn't why I came. You didn't look so good afterwards. Most of the team put it up to your competitive nature, but honestly, you don't sound like you're ok to me.” He was gazing at her with something akin to sorrow and compassion, something Dash normally hated seeing directed at her. This time though, she sat down, and started to talk.

“It's just that...the rainboom is what made me special. Nopony else could do it. It's what got me my cutie mark, it was what got me into the Wonderbolts, and with it I saved Spitfire's life! And here is another flier who can do my stunt. Not just do it...”

Dash started to break down, and Soarin' sat next to her and put a foreleg around her neck. With that comfort she stammered on, “...he can do it b-b-better and faster than me too! And when he did that, he threw me into a spin! Spitfire didn’t care about that at all, she just dragged me off and screamed at me, and let him go free.” Dash broke down and really started to sob, looking down at the floor and letting her mane fall over her face.

“Rainbow Dash. Regardless of what Shadow can do, the sonic rainboom is yours. It is something that you did first, and everypony still respects you as much as they did before. I...” Soarin' paused as if he was unsure as how to continue. Dash looked up into his eyes, waiting.

“I...well Spitfire wasn't the only one you saved that day. And I have never thanked you for saving my life, I owe it to you.”

Dash threw her forelegs around Soarin'.

“Oh it's alright, and you're welcome. I just can't believe I let that get to me enough to hit him. I'm so sorry that I pissed off Spitfire that badly and I-”

“Hey it’s alright,” interrupted Soarin'. “As best as I could tell, Shadow really didn’t give a damn. He almost looked happy, but he’s just fucked up weird like that. As soon as you and Spitfire left the group, he called out the next exercise like nothing had even happened. You’ve seen Spitfire enough to know Shadow’s not off the hook at all for throwing you into that spin. And while we’re talking about Spitfire, she'll come around eventually. Trust me. I once showed up hung over to a race and did really bad, I thought she was going to kick me off the team, but she was just making the perfect effort to impress upon me the seriousness of what I did. I'm sure she'll be quite forgiving of you too, especially since you're already a better racer than I've ever been.”

“Wait, really?” Dash let him go, but kept her eyes locked on his.

“Yes...you really are better. Faster sprints, about the same endurance, and even if your motivation needs work, your team spirit is something special.”

“No, not that, you really lost a race from a night drinking? And Spitfire was ok with it?”

“Only after I apologized and promised to be better from then on. And by that, I mean begging, pleading, and possibly just a little crying.”

Dash paused for a second, licked her dry lips and spoke hesitantly. “Well then I guess I know what I'm doing tomorrow. Both of them deserve an apology.” She hated to say so, but it was a weight off her chest to admit it.

“I'm sure it will all be fine.” Soarin' paused, but to Dash it seemed like he had more to say. She rolled her hoof in a circle a few times before he put on a nervous smile and stammered. “So how about we go get lunch?”

Dash smiled right back. “Sure, and lets go right now, so I don't have an excuse to forget.”

Author's Note

Chapter one edits are done! Now there is consistent formatting, and 200% less cheese.

And to anypony that seriously thinks that Shadow Wing is faster than Rainbow Dash...you're wrong. We all know that isn't physically possible.

Your Incriminating Possessions

Your Incriminating Possessions

Why wait for something to happen, when you can make it happen!?

-Rainbow Dash

The glass stood alone and resolute on the countertop, its murky brown contents still swirling slowly. Suddenly, the assault commenced. Two hooves gripped it by the sides and lifted it into the air, upending the contents into the pony below.

Eyes squeezed shut, Dash tried to avoid tasting the protein shake as she chugged it down. Like every time before, the fake chocolate taste started to permeate the corners of her mouth and the top of her throat. Just before her gag reflex kicked in, the glass ran empty and she slammed it down on the card table she’d been using as a dinner table, coffee table, and counter. After taking a few moments to lick the offending beverage off her teeth, Dash belched loud enough to get a bit of echo off the walls. At least the burp didn’t taste any worse than the shake.

Settling down on the couch, Dash picked her new smartphone. She’d spent hours playing with this thing over the last few days when she wasn’t in practice, and had to wonder what it couldn’t do. Most everypony on the team had one, and she had followed suit once her land line had been clogged up from too many fan calls. With this fancy little device she could call anypony, keep a calendar, and even listen to music. Seemed that unicorn magic could make just about anything. On the screen sat a little blinking box which indicated:

Call received from: Spitfire

Duration: 0:17

The call had gone something like this:

“Hey Dash?”

“Yeah?”

“Shadow will be here tomorrow.”

“Ok, thank you.”

“Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

The message was both given and received in apparent nonchalance, but Dash had been preparing to hear those words for the last three weeks. Now she sat with her eyes bright and grin wide.

Ever since Shadow left, Dash had been training harder than anypony else on the team. That meant hundreds of wing pushups a day, long distance flights, and even those horrible hind-leg squats, all on her own time and outside of practice. It also meant eating gobs and gobs of food and drinking those disgusting protein shakes.

The immediate payoff hadn't been anything other than being sore and exhausted. Each day after her own training she would come home, eat as much as she could, and then pass out on her bed. The routine stayed the same for the first twelve days without any noticeable improvement. She'd show up for the group practice and be more tired than anypony else, and perform worse. By the third week though, Dash found herself day by day slowly gaining on her reps and splits from before the new workout. Soon she’d be faster than most of the ‘bolts!

She imagined it would have made a really good movie montage, and for a few moments she was enthralled with the idea. Visions of a movie portraying her rise to fame and eventually becoming team captain danced before her eyes until her phone chimed for ten PM. Dash shook her head to clear the pleasant daydream and realized she'd need her rest for the big day tomorrow. Soarin' would be cross with her if he found out she was neglecting herself.

Dawn came crisp and cool, and with it came fresh determination. That determination took the form of sixteen pegasi in yellow and blue uniforms splayed about the clouds. There they pulled stiff muscles loose and warmed up the muscles that were cold. A fierce sense of purpose radiated from their forms, the silent bravery of the warrior before a glorious battle. Before their eyes, the enemy crested the walls of their training field.

Groans and apprehensive muttering accompanied the destruction of their regal facade as they got to their hooves. Everpony was ready though, especially Dash. She knew that all of her hard work was about to pay off. It was time to redeem her previous defeat, and be rewarded for each drop of sweat spent in the past. Most importantly though, she could apologize and make things right...before kicking his rump.

The day's workout was so similar to the first time Shadow came that Dash started to have a flashback. That flashback didn't mesh with what she was seeing now. In one frame of mind she was gasping for air and fighting with pained forelegs. In the other she was pushing through the pain. The latter won out, and as Shadow finished his count Dash pushed back up to standing, a triumphant grin on her face.

“Down! Wing pushups!” screamed Shadow, and the day wore on.

They did those wing pushups, then sprint flights, distance flights, hovers, spiral loops, and even some pull-ups. Dash felt that she was doing better, but it was difficult to tell. The workout was hard. With Shadow there to push everypony to keep going when they wanted to stop, Dash found the workout to be far more tiring than her own.

When noon eventually rolled around, Shadow called for his standard end-of-workout exercise. Dash was gasping and covered in sweat, but wiped the beads of liquid out of the pelt over her eyes, curious how this one would go. It was time to prove to herself that all pain had been worth it.

“Drop! As many pushups as you can do! Follow it with as many wing pushups as you can do!”

Knowing that they were at the cusp of freedom, the 'bolts dropped onto the clouds and started pushing. Remembering what happened last time, Dash let nothing rule her except for a strong desire to keep going until her muscles gave up on her.

Seconds turned into minutes, and Dash watched her teammates give up. Skyline Spirit and Endless Skies were the first two to drop out, quickly followed by Twitchy Hooves, who shot over to her bag as soon as she was done. After about a minute only Spitfire, Double Dare, Shadow Wing, and Rainbow Dash were left.

Those members of the team that had already stopped were cheering mostly for their captain and for Double Dare, but Dash could hear one or two cheering for her. Current employment aside, her old daydreams were coming true. The Wonderbolts were cheering for her! Conviction welled up inside and she pressed down again only to feel her wings clench up.

Determination and motivation could not always make one more rep happen, and this time her wings gave out. She slumped down into the clouds, tired but proud. Sweat rolled off her face and fell into the cool, springy field. A few moments passed before Spitfire and Double Dare did the same. Eventually, Shadow flopped down too, and called an end to practice. Pegasi rushed off to grab their gear and before Shadow could leave too, Dash seized her opportunity.

“Hey, Coach!”

Shadow put his water bottle back into his saddlebags and looked up to face Dash, his face slicked in sweat and expression blank.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Dash?”

“Well I...” hesitated Dash for a fleeting moment before her resolve returned. “I wanted to apologize for punching you the last time you were here.”

At her words, he let out a short snort and the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. Dash took at as a good sign and smiled back. Hope erased just the tiniest bit of the ache in her muscles.

“That's quite alright, but thank you for the thought. Was that all?”

“Not quite. Could we try that race again?”

“I don't see any reason why not.”

He set his saddlebags back down, and without further discussion they took to the skies.

Poured out in all its glory below, Cloudsdale slowly spun through the atmosphere. The largest clouds held the town hall and weather factory, and while they were the buildings that always made the tourist photos, the small gap of open air around the town center was surrounded by many islands of clouds. A housing development here, restaurants there, everything one could find on the ground but soaring now in the clouds grew in large broken rings around the center. Here and there large gaps punctuated the developments, giving a view all the way to the ground nearly two miles below.

Two miles. Far enough up that the trees blurred together, and the air stole the warmth right through Dash’s pelt.

“Ready?” asked Shadow.

Dash licked her lips. “You bet.”

With a strong thrust from her hindlegs, Dash threw herself into the air and reached out to embrace the fall. The whole world seemed to be stretched out below, but Dash only had eyes for the small rectangular patch of white with striped lines.

The dozen seconds it took Dash to find herself pressing against the cone of compressed air passed in a heartbeat, and with a fierce joy she tore it asunder. Past the sound barrier she wasn't able to hear anything from behind, so when the flash of deep blue light followed the only noise she heard was the rush of the wind in her ears.

Chancing a glance back, Dash saw Shadow at the center of a dark navy disk, several hundred lengths back and gaining. Turning back ahead proved the field was much larger and growing rapidly near. Near enough that the pair of pegasi impacted the clouds but a few moments later.

In the adrenaline-induced clarity, Dash saw the field fill in her view at the same time as Shadow entered her peripheral vision. A mere twenty lengths above the field, he drew even with her, legs pinned together and eyes locked onto the rapidly approaching end. The impact into the cloud layer came so swiftly that Dash was at a loss as to who won. Every good sprinter always pushed through the finish.

Slowing down was a matter of shedding all form and letting drag take over enough of the speed that it was possible to start flying against gravity’s pull. Several hundred lengths passed before Dash slowed to a hover, the sound around her seeming to rain down as it caught back up. Shadow was having a much harder time slowing down, and finally came to a halt a few hundred lengths closer to the ground. After making the climb to the practice field, Dash couldn't wait any longer to know.

“So who won?” she gasped between breaths as Shadow alighted next to her, panting just as hard.

“I am unable to say for certain, but I think it was a draw.”

Draw. The word echoed in Dash's mind unforgivingly, followed by a cascade of emotions. After all that hard work, weeks of exhaustion and agony, she could only tie him at her own game. Anger and sadness rose in her chest and throat, and she gritted her teeth to try to hold back the rising gorge and welling tears. Her vision went blurry, but her visage was set like flint.

“I don't think these races have been entirely fair of me, Ms. Dash.”

Dash blinked the tears from her eyes to see Shadow looking the other way.

“How...how so?” She choked out.

“You have far more natural talent than I do. In fact, every pony on your team does. And from what I hear, you've trained very hard in the last few weeks, correct?”

Shadow turned back around to face Dash as she nodded.

“Well then, if you promise me to keep training hard, I'll show you what you can improve on.”

“I promise!” returned Dash, the thought of a new challenge chasing out any sorrow.

“Alright then. I've been watching you fly, and you do all of your stunts and tricks on a brute force basis. This makes you very strong, but you're not using the finesse you should. There are a lot of little things, but for now, we'll just cover the most important. Can you tell me what you do with your forelegs when you go into a dive? For anytime you're flying for that matter.”

Dash thought for a second and replied with the most well thought answer she had.

“Uhm...”

“Exactly. You are just holding them out in front of you, creating a great deal of drag when you could be using them to divert the airflow. The next time you dive, try holding your forelegs like this.”

Hovering in the air to demonstrate, Shadow held his forelegs close together, and then rotated them both, holding the front edges of his hooves against one another such that they made a wedge. Dash noted his posture with surprise, wondering how she hadn't thought of it before. At the same time, he rotated his hindlegs to create a similar wedge on the other side. It looked awkward...but if winning was worth the pain, it surely was worth looking a little different.

“So how about we try that race one more time, and you can try this form?” asked Shadow.

“You are so on!” exclaimed Dash, every fiber of her being ready to win.

“Go!” shouted Shadow over the wind.

Without need to hear anything else, Dash dove off the cloud, and once again plunged to face the practice field. Against her muscle memory and the rushing air she shoved her front hooves together. Almost instantly the turbulence lessened as the airflow cut to go around her. It was so easy that Dash felt like she was falling instead of diving. Rotating her hindlegs was more difficult, but only the adrenaline made it feel slow. As soon as she locked her hooves together, the air yielded to her -- begging for her to dive faster.

Without warning she found herself up against the sound barrier, the cone of air appearing so suddenly that she cried out. Dash desperately tried to beat her wings faster, experience telling her that she needed the extra push to break through instead of being flung off into the blue.

Before she could flap her wings again, her forehooves sliced cleanly through the barrier and she kept speeding up on the other side. All around her the rainboom flared brightly, but she was lost in the excitement of the flight. Faster she went, swifter than she had ever flown before. Soon her forelegs began to burn from diverting the air, and Dash understood why she had to do so many pushups.

The end of the race came all too quickly, as the practice field rushed up to meet her. There was no way Dash could have stopped for that, nor did she particularly want to slow down. After piercing through the cloud layer she turned into a wide arc, breaking free when her eyes were fixed on the underside of the practice field. Poking her head through the clouds, she was just in time to see Shadow hurtling past. It was a clumsy, brutal descent and recovery; he took quite a while to slow down.

While waiting for Shadow to return, Dash took the time to reflect on how she was feeling. Her forelegs were more tired than usual, but her wings felt good, and she was barely out of breath. In short, she felt better than she usually did after pulling a rainboom. Looking up, she gazed at the mix of rainbow and deep blue fading from the sky. That’s just…ugly.

At that moment, Shadow's forehooves popped through the clouds, and with a grunt he pulled himself through. After catching his breath, he looked up and smiled ruefully.

“I knew you would beat me. And you're only going to get faster with more practice. That's all for today, but I promise I'll be teaching you more tomorrow, and after each practice to come.”

“That. Was. Amazing!” cheered Dash. “I've never gone that fast, and it's never been so easy!”

Shadow raised an eyebrow before continuing.

“Then please forgive me for my previous opinion of you. If you can endure the pain of performing two sonic rainbooms in one day, you may very well be both the toughest and the fastest pegasus I've ever met.” He looked at her thoughtfully, as trying to glean something he'd missed before.

“Pain? Wait, it hurts when you do your rain- I mean sonic boom?” asked Dash.

He gave the smallest of nods in return.

“I can only guess it would be that way for anypony except for you. Too much friction at that speed and too harsh of a sprint. Must be part of your special talent.”

The adrenaline high from going so fast still hadn't worn off, and it was only magnified by the pride from her victory. As much as losing to him before irked Dash, she respected anypony who was a good competitor, and the knowledge that he had suffered to teach her how to fly faster left her with the warm glow of camaraderie.

Never being one to use fancy words or to get excessively mushy, Dash settled for a good old hoofshake. She strode right up to him and held her right foreleg out. His hoof met hers for a brief but firm shake before the coach departed into the blue.

After Shadow faded into the distance, Dash grabbed her bags and headed to the locker room. Anything else in life could wait until after she’d had a shower.

The next day’s workout was just similar enough to tread on some of the sore muscles from the day before. Even though the focus had shifted, wings were still wings and legs were still legs, so it was impossible to isolate the muscles entirely. The calisthenics were tough, but Dash pushed through them eagerly to get to the flight exercises.

Once Shadow called for suicides, Dash was ready to try out her new form. As tricky as it was to switch postures mid-flight, the payoff in speed was incredible. At the end of the first set she was a solid two seconds ahead of anypony else. She had the better part of a minute to rest before Shadow yelled at them to go again.

The next suicide was laughably easy after having so much time to get air back into her body. Given the change, Dash took this one even faster, until she heard beeping. Looking around in the middle of the longest stretch of the set, she saw Shadow stopped and hovering. He was hurriedly tapping at this watch, eyes wide and lips pressed together.

“Water break!” He yelled over his shoulder before streaking off to the edge of the field nosing into his bags. Most of the ‘bolts finished the exercise, though a few slowed in their confusion.

While the 'bolts took their break, Dash hesitated to tear open her water bottle, instead gazing out at the team. Shadow was talking rapidly into a skyphone that he'd pulled out of his bags. The small gold and black box was about the same size and shape as Dash's phone, but it had an antenna coming off of the top. Oh, and it was really expensive. Unlike Dash's phone, which would only work within a few miles of a arcane signal amplifier, a sky phone would work anywhere.

While Shadow was busy, Twitchy Hooves was on her laptop during water break. Twitchy Hooves, or 'Twitch' as she went by, was probably Spitfire's best friend, and was a hobbyist computer tech. That being said, it didn't get her any special favors with the team captain during practice. Practice time was sacred to Spitfire, and so anypony, including Twitch, caught doing other stuff was in trouble.

After a few moments Shadow shut his phone, slid it back into his bags, and threw them on. He bounded over to where Spitfire was sipping out of a water bottle and coughed out an excuse.

“I'm sorry, Ms. Spitfire, but I need to leave. Please take over the practice for me.”

“What? Why are you leaving?” Spitfire wiped the seat out of her eyes, blinking in confusion.

“I've had an emergency come up.”

Without further words he leapt into the sky and winged his way off the field. Spitfire watched him go, some curious blend of confusion and exasperation marring her visage.

Suddenly, the curiosity from the day before hit Dash. She dropped her water bottle on the cloud turf and took off after Shadow. Knowing that she'd really get it for skipping practice, Dash turned her head back and mouthed 'I'm sorry' to Spitfire, who oddly enough returned a shrug and a smile.

Confident she wasn't going to be in trouble, Dash put on speed. With her new flying form, the trouble wasn't catching up with Shadow, but rather staying far enough back and subtle enough to go unnoticed. It was one of the few times she wasn't happy to have such bright coloration.

A few blocks from the field, Shadow turned sharply into a back alley. Dash looked around for any bystanders, but Shadow had picked a spot where nopony was strolling or flapping along. After waiting a few moments, Dash landed and poked her head around the corner.

Back alleys in most earth pony and unicorn cities were dark from accumulated filth, which might lead them to think that such places in pegasus cities would be the same white cloud as the rest of town. However magical a city in the clouds might seem, it had its dark places too. Citizens of Cloudsdale liked to have cloud homes of even white. The poorer sections of town were not made up of just white clouds, so the tenants would commonly move the darker parts of the walls to the back in order to make the front yard and porch look nicer. That usually left the walls of the alleyways to be made of dark thunderstorm clouds.

This alley was no different, and it was very easy for Dash to pick out the pale green of Shadow's hindleg poking up into the air out of the cloud. In the blink of an eye, the last of it disappeared as the pegasus it belonged to finished burrowing into the cloud.

Like a kitten sneaking after the tail of a larger cat, Dash to tip-hoof her way into the alley to the spot where Shadow disappeared. She moved as quietly as possible, trying to muffle each hoof fall and breath. Over the sound of her pounding heart, a faint rustling noise could be heard. Dash slowly dug into the cloud softly and slowly, pulling back globs of dark nimbus and setting them aside gently so they wouldn’t rumble. This quickly turned into full-on burrowing as her quarry proved to be deeper than she could reach from the alley floor.

After going about a dozen hooves down, the tip of her snout broke into a bubble in the cloud. She hurriedly drew it back and rotated her head such that she could see into the open air without revealing more of her body.

The bubble went several lengths in every direction, and dark like the namesake of stormcloud. Sitting in the middle was Shadow, who was donning some kind of dark-colored full body suit.

Dash watched as he finished shrugging it on, inhaling lightly even as her lungs cried for air. Once he did, the few loose parts shrunk to fit his form, and the color changed to match the clouds he was sitting on, leaving him hard to see in the low light aside from his head.

Reaching into his saddlebags, Shadow pulled out four very dark-coated shoes and began affixing them to his hooves. With a start Dash realized they were not just any kind of horseshoes. They were guard’s horseshoes. Her suspicions were confirmed when Shadow finishing slipping the first one on with an audible *ka-SHINK*.

Unlike regular horseshoes, guard’s shoes had a small metal hook toward the front center, attached to a pin that would embed up into the soft part of the hoof. Normally the hook would sit flush with the bottom of the horseshoe, but should the pony wearing it flex a particular muscle in his lower leg, the hook would pop out. They were painful to wear, tricky to use, and almost exclusively worn by the Royal Guard. And criminals.

Dash hadn’t paid much attention in history class, but she knew the griffons had invented the first guns a few decades ago. Since then, ponies had quickly adopted the technology and improved on it vastly, though someone in the government had decided it would be a good idea to keep the triggers inaccessible to anyone without claws, and guard’s shoes had been invented as an adapter intended only for military use. Then came the futile part -- trying to prevent every thug in the country from getting a few.

It had been a pretty pointless battle, and now they were the kind of black market tool that could be bought alongside drugs if one knew where to ask. Rumor had it that a few gun models were coming out for pony use without any extra hardware. Not that the fucking unicorns ever had a problem to begin with.

Ka-SHINK!

With a loud wince Shadow popped the last shoe on. After a second they too faded, matching his body suit. Reaching back into his bags, he pulled out helmet unlike any Dash had seen before. It fit completely over his head, and went all the way down to the collar of his suit. She couldn't tell what it was made out of in the poor light, but could hear soft radio chatter coming from it.

“Yes, yes, I’m on my way. E-T-A twenty moons.”

Whatever Shadow said after that was lost, as a visor slid down over his face, sealing him into the suit. After slipping on his saddlebags, the whole ensemble blended further until he was practically invisible. What gave him away was the rapidly widening hole in the bottom of the clouds where he was making an exit. A rush of air blew into the cloud bubble as Shadow departed, still apparently unaware of the pony watching.

When Dash felt that she'd waited a safe time, she shoved her way back up into the alley and took off racing toward the practice field. Oh my Celestia. Spitfire is not going to believe this.

Author's Note

Re-edited 3/7/16

Third one down, and now the fun begins!

Thanks again to Dizziestbeef, for pointing out my stupidity to me by editing.

And an epic bro-hoof
////)
to anybody else at the Bataan Death March. Hooah.