How the Tables Turn

The four of them stared at the door Phoenix had just departed through; Cloud Kicker, Rainbow Dash, and Sunbeam out of confusion, Ashes out of annoyance. Ashes knew what he was doing, and he was going to get it from her later for leaving over something he could’ve just postponed. They sat in silence, which was eventually broken by Kicker.

“Well, that was… abrupt.”

Ashes turned her head to face the other three, remembering the conversation Phoenix had walked out of. However, before it could be continued, Rainbow spoke out with a question Ashes had been expecting.

“What was that all about?”

“I think it’s better for me to wait until he’s ready to share that information with you face to face. The most I can comfortably tell you is that he has been working on this for a long time. It still doesn’t justify him leaving at a time like this, anyway.”

“That’s okay. It’s like Phoenix said; they know what they need to know. When will they get their numbers?”

“It’s actually rather strange they’re not delivering them already. I wonder what the hold-up is?”

“I don’t know. My guess is that we’ll find out when the guard gets here.”

Ashes looked at her clock. “Well, that won’t be tonight. They don’t deliver this late. I wonder if they’ll tell us at breakfast tomorrow?” Then she remembered. The drawing was tomorrow. Twenty numbers would be pulled, and the ponies they represented would have until Saturday to prepare. This was the way it worked. Drawings were Wednesdays, sessions were Sundays. It was the Mistress’s way of keeping her ‘subjects’ in constant fear. The ponies would drive themselves mad anticipating who would be in the Dark Corridor that week. Then those who were called upon would be driven further into madness over what cruelness awaited them in the Dark Corridor.

Apparently the worry that the drawing had brought had shown on Ashes’ face, as Rainbow pointed out.

“Everything okay? You seem kinda tense.”

“Just worried. I hate to break this to you so soon, but the drawing is tomorrow. If one of your numbers is pulled, you have until Sunday to get out unharmed. If it comes down to it, we’ll have to break out before then. I’m just hoping we get more time to plan this out. It’s not like walking out the front door; most of us don’t even know where the exit is.”

“Well, we’ll have to make do with what we can, I guess. It still isn’t that big a deal for me. I’ve made the impossible happen before, and this seems to be far from impossible.”

“Uh-huh.” Ashes was skeptical about Rainbow’s ‘making the impossible happen’ idea. “So what exactly is your idea of ‘impossible’, then?”

“I pulled off a Sonic Rainboom.” Ashes raised an eyebrow. “I broke the sound barrier in flight.” Ashes’ eyebrow arched further. “I’ll show you one when my feathers grow back.” If Ashes’ eyebrow was any higher, it would no longer be attached to her head. However, since only Pinkie Pie would be capable of something so… random… she gave up on attempting to raise her brow any higher, and instead went with a skeptical snort.

Phoenix walked into Ashes’ room. It wasn’t the room that he had set up for this very purpose in his own house, but he would make it work. He pushed the bed off to the side, making more space. He started with four push-ups done at breakneck speed. He paused, drawing his next two over 8 seconds each, then another fast-paced succession of four. He continued this until his total count reached one hundred and fourteen.

He collapsed, but quickly rolled onto his back. He wasn’t done yet. He hooked his hind-hooves under the bed and began doing sit-ups. When he reached one hundred and twenty-seven, and he couldn’t bring himself to get an inch off the ground, he rolled over and stood up. He still wasn’t done.

He jumped, hooking his forelegs onto a bar hanging on the wall. He began doing pull-ups. His count reached ninety-eight. He could feel his muscles complaining, he was burning everywhere, but the pain was drowned out by the adrenaline that was flowing through him. It was as if somepony else was feeling the burn while he powered through the rapid exercises he subjected himself to.

He pulled himself up once more, then swung his hind end up, hooking his hind legs on the bar, and let his front end swing down, slowing himself so he didn’t bang the wall. He proceeded to do sideways sit-ups, fighting gravity with each one he performed. He felt the blood rushing to his head, even seeing his vision slowly tint itself dark red, but he continued, persistent upon working himself to his very core. When he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, he pulled himself up and grabbed onto the bar with his forelegs, finally allowing himself a break (sort of) so that the blood could run out of his head. After barely enough time for that to happen, he let himself down and continued on.

When his count reached ninety-four, he lowered himself down, slowly sliding himself off of the bar. It wasn’t fatigue that forced him away from his brutal workout. When he touched down, he broke into a gallop for the bathroom, emptying his stomach into the toilet. Twice. He continued retching dryly on the floor, rolling himself into a fetal position and waiting for it to subside. He was used to it.

After all, it was his goal.

When he felt it was safe to get up, he dragged himself into Ashes’ bedroom. He picked up the uppermost calendar, checking off the date with a red marker. Sundays were marked in blue. They were his days off. He began rummaging through the calendars, month by month. He hit the end of this year’s calendar and moved onto the next one. He flipped all the way back to the current month five years ago.

He hadn’t missed a single day.