The oil lantern in the room started with a dim light that barely filled the room, but gradually the light grew brighter, eventually filling the whole room. The oil lantern had been timed, only to start burning upon a designated time. That didn’t mean that the single pegasus in the room had to be awake by the time the oil lantern had started to light. She had awaken roughly half an hour ago, screaming in panic at first, but then accepted her fate that nopony would hear her. She had tried harder after a few moments, only to give up after a few tries. She had hoped that somepony would have heard her cries for help. Even if anypony heard her, there was no way into the room, and the only way out was from the inside. The only way in, was by numeric combination upon a combination lock securing the door.
Her fiery-orange mane wet with perspiration, the mare had given up trying to get help, seeing as to how immobile she was. However, the mare looked up when the oil lantern started filling the room, prompting her to look around the room. She gave a sigh of exasperation after realizing that her cries for help were in vain. The room had been soundproofed. The mare couldn’t look behind her. She was facing the door to the room. She felt useless, knowing the door was so near, yet so far. The mare’s wings were stretched open behind her, and she could feel something holding onto her wings. She had tried trying to shake her way out of whatever was holding onto her wings but her rearhooves were cuffed onto a steel plate on the floor. The only thing she could move were her forehooves.
In front of the mare, between her and the door, was a single metal block. On the metal block were two other blocks protruding from the top of the block, though much flatter and smaller. Apart from that, the metal block just looked like a regular metal block, nothing out of the ordinary. Except for something yellow on top. Spitfire squinted at the yellow thing, only to find out that it was a note. She leaned, one of the few things she was capable of doing, forwards to read the note. She was surprised that her name was on the note. She couldn’t think of anypony that could have left her in a place like this. Except Soarin’. That joker. Though this was probably too far to actually be considered a joke. Soarin’ should know that. She read the note slowly, carefully trying not to snap rearhooves trying to lean herself forward.
Hello Spitfire. I want to play a game. You are not a regular pegasus. You stand out among your teammates when it comes to soaring to the skies. You have more fans than any of the members of the Wonderbolts aside from Rainbow Dash. But you have made a terrible mistake in handling one small matter.
A fan of yours, it seems, caught you accepting bribes from a few ponies wanting to join the Wonderbolts. If it’s not that, it’s somepony paying you to rig a race. That pony who caught you, attempted to confront you, with clear evidence of your wrongdoing. You knew the jig was up, and that everything would come falling apart. So your next move was critical.
A few days later, police found the body of the fan who confronted you. Now you and I both know what you did. Don’t try denying. I have as much proof that you finished her off as she had proof of you accepting bribes.
The device you are attached to is what I call a Wing Tug. In sixty seconds, the clamps holding onto your wings will slowly be tugged back, ensuring you enjoy every single second of the pain. The only way out is by destroying the hooves in which you have used to destroy another pony and accept bribery. By smashing your hooves repeatedly on the pressure plates on the metal block before you, should you succeed, the pressure plates will activate and stop the tugging on your wings. The clamps will then be released and the cuffs securing your rearhooves will be opened.
Are you willing to stop your dirty laundry before the washing machine stops? Let the game begin.
Spitfire didn’t react for a few seconds. Is this for real? Spitfire had thought this was a practical joke, but now she knew that this was all just a game. Sick bastard. And how did he...or she know about what I did!? Spitfire swore that her jaw could have struck the floor if she weren’t leaning so hard towards the metal block. A flurry of thoughts went through Spitfire’s mind faster than Rainbow Dash needed to create a Sonic Rainboom. Spitfire’s head hurt as she tried to figure who could have been behind this, how he...or she knew about what Spitfire did and how she could have been caught twice. Spitfire’s hooves were definitely dirty, but she wanted to know just how much the perpetrator knew about her.
All of those thoughts stopped assaulting her brain immediately after she felt her wings being tugged on. This is bad. Really bad. Spitfire’s whole life depended on her ability to fly. Being a member of the Wonderbolts, it just wouldn’t sound right to have a flier who can’t fly, right? Even the retired members of the Wonderbolts can still fly. She would have to worry about that stuff later. Whether or not she would still be able to fly all depended on what she was willing to do right now. Five seconds in, Spitfire scanned the note and immediately came upon the sentence she knew would help her get out.
By smashing your hooves repeatedly on the pressure plates on the metal block before you, should you succeed, the pressure plates will activate and stop the tugging on your wings.
Spitfire didn’t hesitate. But she had a problem. In order to reach the metal block in front of her, she had to lean forward. But by leaning forward, she was unintentionally speeding up the process of her wings being pulled off. So by trying to save myself, I’m actually screwing my chances of getting out safe. Ten seconds in, and Spitfire could already feel her wings flexing in ways they shouldn’t be. Against her will, Spitfire leaned forward and proceeded to bang her forehooves onto the pressure plates atop the metal block.
Slowly but surely, the pressure plates descended into the metal block by bit. Fifteen seconds in, Spitfire stopped, cringing at the pain from striking her forehooves upon the metal block. Tears streamed from her eyes as she couldn’t keep them back any longer. Spitfire hadn’t felt so much pain since the accident. The accident...
“But daddy, I want to join them now!” A young Spitfire huffed. Spitfire and her father had to the Wonderbolt’s derby on the eve after Winter Wrap Up. Her father had promised Spitfire that she would be able to join the Wonderbolts if she gave the opportunity all she got.
“Now now, spi, you know that you can’t just waltz into the Wonderbolts just like that right? You have to do something amazing to capture their attention!” Her father pointed at one of the Wonderbolt’s zooming ahead of the rest. Though he was a new flier in the Wonderbolts, the pegasus had done his best to outshine the other members of the Wonderbolts, easily leading by more than half a lap.
“But over-confidence gets nopony nowhere! And don’t call me spi! You know how much I hate that!” Spitfire’s cheeks puffed up. Her father laughed. Spitfire was so cute when she’s mad.
“Tell you what. I know how you can get into the Wonderbolts. But you have to promise me that you’ll give it all you’ve got, you hear?” The head of the Wonderbolts had managed to overtake the lead of the derby and was now racing neck and neck with the new recruit.
“You do?!” Filly spitfire was ecstatic. She knew her father wouldn’t lie about something she was so serious about. She was willing to do a whole lot of things, just to even get to meet the Wonderbolts in the flesh. The Wonderbolts rarely granted such meetings, so filly Spitfire knew that she had no chance. However, when given the opportunity to even join the Wonderbolts, Spitfire wasn’t that confident with her flying capabilities.
Her father smiled at her again, knowing that Spitfire would say yes almost immediately afterttelling her how to join the Wonderbolts. To be able to strut your stunts in front of thousands of fans was one of Spitfire’s dreams, as her father had recalled. He had never seen Spitfire as serious as she was whenever he spoke about the Wonderbolts.
“There’s a competition coming up next week that will be judged by none other than the Wonderbolts themselves. If you were to win the competition, I’m sure that they’d take you in proudly!”
Filly Spitfire’s eyes sparkled. Her confidence would rise whenever she heard the name Wonderbolts. She would envision the Wonderbolts, actually there to see just how well she was at flying. Spitfire loved to fly, there was no doubt about that. When given motivation, Spitfire had the potential to outshine any of the pegasi in Cloudsdale, and quite possibly, the Wonderbolts themselves.
“I knew that you’d look at me that way.” Spitfire’s father laughed heartily. “That’s why I signed you up for the competition yesterday. At least now, you can show the Wonderbolts what you were made of and finally join the ranks of the elite!”
Spitfire banged on the pressure plates, hoping to push them deeper before the bones in her forehooves gave way. She could feel her wings stretch much further than she could possibly have done during training on her own. Even with help, Spitfire wouldn’t be able to extend her wings that far.
The pressure plates decended a little bit more, and Spitfire stopped. Already twenty-five seconds in and Spitfire was already giving up. She could feel the bones crack with every smack she did on the pressure plates. She had beaten so hard that she would have been bleeding had she been cut. Internal bleeding was just as painful as bleeding on the outside, but amplified about five times. And she had to continue beating on the pressure plates.
The tears continued to flow as Spitfire looked at her forehooves. They were a mess. Though on the outside it didn’t look serious, she could already see that parts of her forehooves were already starting to turn purple, confirming her worst fears. She had internal bleeding. She wasn’t that worried, and soon her other worse fear would be there to greet her. She either lost her forehooves, or lose her wings. Spitfire knew she couldn’t lose her wings. Not becaused she treasured them very much. Oh no, it was because the wings of a pegasus had lots of important veins and arteries, acting as a secondary blood distribution centre, the primary being the kidneys. If her wings were to come off, she’d not only lose her ability to fly, but she would also bleed until she died.
Her forehooves felt numb, and she took this as an advantage. She continued bashing away at the pressure plates, slowly driving them downwards into the metal block. It was forty seconds in that she felt a sharp pain in her wings. Spitfire felt as if she were being stabbed in the back repetitively. Nevertheless she continued banging away on the pressure plates, just two more inches to freedom. However, the numb feeling in her forehooves had subsided, and the pain came back. She stopped immediately. She knew she couldn’t stop. She had vowed to never give up since the accident. The accident....
Filly Spitfire paced back and forth nervously, waiting for her number to be called out. By some luck, she was the last one to be called out. She was worrying that what she had planned might not be enough to wow the Wonderbolts. I’m not even sure if I can pull it off.... Filly Spitfire had been practicing her signature move about a dozen times a day for the past week, hoping to improve before the big day. She had tried and tried, getting noticeably better every time. However, that was when Spitfire had confidence. Spitfire hadn’t anticipated so many people to attend the Best Young Flier’s competition. What if she were to mess up during her routine? She would certainly not join the Wonderbolts, and would become the laughing stock of all of Cloudsdale.
That was when something unexpected happened. Spifire had almost flown through the ceiling when somepony had tapped her on the shoulder. Spitfire turned to see who could be disturbing her now. Her jaw dropped as she saw the new recruit of the Wonderbolts who had won at the derby last week. Stammering, Spitfire tried to mutter up a few words, only to fail miserably.
The young Wonderbolt smiled at Spitfire, playing with her mane. “You’ll do great. Don’t worry about messing up. Worry about missing out. Being here is your first step to joining us, kid. Remember that. To join us, you must be brave and have lots of self-confidence. You got that, kid?” Spitfire was still stuttering, trying to find words. She felt a flame burn in her heart. She had just been cheered on by a Wonderbolt. And right before it was her turn to go out.
With all nervousness gone, Spitfire had wanted to practice her routine one more time. She didn’t have enough time, right before her number was called. She flew out, the fire of confidence burning in her eyes. As she flew to the centre of the stadium, she looked around at the crowd, an expression of fearlessness on her face. The head of the Wonderbolts started counting down the timer, and the moment he said go, Spitfire had flown off.
Spitfire knew that she had to execute every part of her routine perfectly in order for this to work. First she flew skyward, before plummeting downward, building the momentum. Right before touching the ground she made a sharp 90 degree turn and soared dead ahead. By this time in her routine, Spitfire’s tail and mane would appear to have caught fire thanks to the wind beating against them, making it look like flames fanning about as she flew. She was travelling so fast it, her tail and mane flapping around in the wind so hard, that it was as if streaks of flame chased after her as she flew. Then she made another sharp 90 degree turn upward and fly skyward, with the streaks of flames chasing her.
Filly Spitfire had never felt such a feeling of invigoration in her whole life. To have the wind beating on her face as she slowly approached Mach 1. Nopony in history had ever been able to travel at speeds nearing Mach 1 before. Spitfire knew this, and was pushed further to show what she could do.
Then something unexpected happened. She hit Mach 1. The sound barrier broke as streaks of flames chased her. The Sonic Flameboom created spread across the skies like a huge bright orange aurora. The crowd watched in awe as the flames licked at the clouds as Spitfire flew back down. Spitfire knew she had done well. Once her hooves touched the ground, Spitfire was welcomed with cheering from the clouds, and a huge round of applause from her idols, the Wonderbolts. That feeling she had right then was one of the best she had ever felt.
Fifty seconds in, Spitfire could already hear her bones start to snap as the clamps tugging on her wings continued. Spitfire was already beating on the pressure plates with all her mights, as determined as she was when she was a filly, to fly once again among the best of the best. She knew that she had to do it. She had worked so hard to get here. She knew that all of that hard work were to go down the drain if she were to give up now.
Her left forehoof broke as she finally managed to get the pressure plate on the left to descend fully. Her right forehoof however, was still banging on the right pressure plate like no tomorrow. Spitfire whacked barbarically on the right pressure plate with her right forehoof. In an attempt to quicken the descent, Spitfire used her broken forehoof as well. Bad choice. Spitfire bit her lip in pain she she felt her wings start to tear of her back. She banged and banged on the pressure plate, feeling the cursed thing descending ever so slowly. She flashed back to the accident. The accident...
After the Wonderbolts had accepted Filly Spitfire into the Wonderbolts, Spitfire gleefully went on her way back home. That was when she had the idea to try and recreate her Sonic Flameboom. Looking around to make sure that nopony was watching, Spitfire quickly dashed off to the now vacant stadium. Spitfire once more looked around to make sure nopony was watching. Nopony was around. Seizing her chance, Spitfire once more flew off. Flying skyward, she quickly gained enough speed to almost hit the sound barrier.
But she hit something else. Another unlucky pegasus had been flying above the stadium at the time. Spitfire couldn’t stop. Stopping suddenly at such a speed would mean spreading her wings wide enough to slow her down. But at such speeds, such attempts would rip her wings clean off. She had no time to stop, she shouted a word of warning before crashing into the pegasus. She blacked out on impact. Before Spitfire’s eyes closed, she saw the pegasus she crashed into, dashing at Spitfire’s falling body.
Spitfire woke up days later, lying on a hospital bed with her father sobbing away at her bed sheets. Spitfire groaned in pain, catching the attention of her father, who looked up immediately with tearful eyes. Spitfire couldn’t tell how long she had been knocked out, but judging by the eyes of her father, she knew it had been a long while. The two embraced in a hug that meant that no matter what happened, the father and daughter will still love each other.
Sobbing her father stammered, “Oh Spitfire. Promise me you’ll never attempt any dangerous acts again!”
Spitfire, also tearful, promised. “I promise Daddy, I will never do such a thing ever again.” The two had continued the embrace and the crying for several minutes before finally letting go.
Fifty-five seconds in, Spitfire felt her left wing tear off first. There was almost no resistance as the bone had been stretched to it’s limit. The muscle in her wings had been weak, considering how long they had been left open, and had almost no resistance as well. As the wing reached it’s limit, it came off easily. The pain, however, did not come easily to Spitfire. She was howling in pain, knowing that she wouldn’t make it. She tried one more time to bang on the pressure plate. Finally getting it to descend fully, Spitfire knew it was too late when her right wing tore off.
Tears cascaded down her face as she was slowly weakened by her injury. She pitched forward, onto the metal block, knowing that her time is now limited. She cried not only in pain, but also in regret. She had promised her father that she would never attempt a single dangerous act. She had broken the promise, consumed by her own greed. She was in too far to even care whatever promises she had made. She was making money, and quick. She was enjoying it very much, and almost paid no heed to the attention she could have been attracting at the moment.
Spitfire’s strength was weakening, the wings on her back now replaced with bloody stumps that were once her wings. The wings hung behind her, one on each side, like a butterfly’s wings. Bloody poured out of Spitfire’s wounds as she tried to reminisce on her sweet childhood memories. And that single promise she had made with her father that she had broken. A broken promise would hurt her father as much as Spitfire’s death would. The news of the fan she killed would be all over the media soon anyway, so even if she died alone here, Spitfire’s father would still found out.
This hurt Spitfire much more than the accident, and her wings being torn away, and quite possibly both of them combined. Blood continued leaking out of her wounds as Spitfire felt sleepy. Knowing her time was short, Spitfire tried as best as she could to keep her tear-streaked face up. She had to keep her head up. It’s what her father would have wanted. To have confidence no matter what she did. She pushed herself of the table and stood there, on her rearhooves that were standing in the cuffs even though they were opened once both pressure plates had descended. But Spitfire didn’t notice.
She looked upward and felt her weakening lips part. The words that came out would make her father weep deeply til the day of his death. “I’m sorry Daddy...” With that Spitfire once more pitched forward, her rearhooves now moving out of the cuffs. Her chest rebounded off the metal block and she fell to the side. She felt the remaining blood inside her continue to leak out as her vision darkened. The last thing Spitfire remembered was the door opening.
Spitfire closed her eyes and repeated the words until her heart stopped. I’m sorry Daddy....