How to Disappear Completely

by shortskirtsandexplosions

Resume

"Please, gentlecol—erm..." Fancy Pants dabbed the sweat on his brow as he gazed across the summit of High Paw. "Gentlecanines. Ahem." He leaned forward with an earnest expression crossing his muzzle. "Can we—at least—establish another date upon which we can reconvene and provide you with a... uhhhh... more appealing proposal?"

The speaker for the elders shook his hairy head. "I'm afraid that won't be possssssssible."

"You heard him, Mr. Pants," Prince Blueblood droned in a tired voice. He rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time since the group arrived. "They've made up their mangy minds about negotiating with ponykind."

"And besides..." Filthy Rich shifted awkwardly. "Fancy, can you even afford another excursion back here? I'd say we should cut our losses and return home to assess the damage."

"But... b-but we have simply come too far to give in to dismay now!" Fancy Pants moaned.

"Dismay has nothing to do with it, friend." Blueblood frowned in the direction of the elder canines and their guards. "These runts are obviously more thick-headed than we imagined."

"Your Eminence..." Fancy Pants sighed.

"We should have brought more royalty with us!" Blueblood muttered, eyes wandering to the Midnight Oil above them. "A single glare from one of the alicorns would surely have convinced the dogs to talk."

"That's not how the princesses do things." Fancy Pants frowned. "You of all stallions should know that."

"Indeed I do." Blueblood bore a wry—albeit brief smirk. "Ever seen Her Majesty's countenance when she arrives at a social function and all the cake is gone from the reception table?"

"Gentlecolts, please!" Filthy Rich trotted past them, facing the diamond dogs with an earnest expression. "There must be a way for us to meet with the Hawkeye Pack... to speak with them face to face and convince them to reconsider their stance with the council!"

"I'm afraid not." The speaker was already growling. "Resssst asssssured, their mindssss are made up... and assss ssssuch, ssssso is the counccccil'ssss. You cannot persssssuade a pack to make changesssss oncccce a deccccissssion issss made."

"They might tell you different," echoed Flash Sentry's voice.

A hushed murmur rolled over the plateau from both canines and equines alike.

Spitfire spun about. Upon seeing the five figures walking up from the cliff's southeast edge, she hovered lower—forming a defensive perimeter along with the rest of the Wonderbolts.

"Brad?" Fancy Pants squinted, craning his neck to get a better look of the arriving party. "Is that you, chap?"

"Yup!" Flash Sentry smiled, giving room for the canine trio from the mountain to walk ahead of him. "And I'm not alone!" He gestured. "Ladies, gentlecolts, and puppies-alike... I present to you the Hawkeye Pack."

"Hey!" Fido grinned from ear to ear, tail-wagging. "We're popular now!" A tiny paw swatted his rump. "Ow!"

"Idiot!" Spot hissed. "Ssssave it for later! We've got work to do!"

"Pleasssse..." Rover grumbled, shouldering his way to the front of the pack. "The quicker we get thisss done, the better."

"Hold on a second!" Spitfire frowned at Flash Sentry. "Where in Equestria did you go? And—more importantly..." She gestured at the three canines. "...where did these mutts come from?"

"Hound Hill," Spot raspily replied. "But don't worry, yellow winged horssse. We're here to talk."

"You... you represent the Hawkeye Pack?!" Fancy Pants stammered.

Blueblood nearly shoved the other unicorn aside, gazing with wide eyes. "Have you reconsidered your vote?!"

"Mmmmmmmmmm... yessss," Rover muttered, making a bee-line for the canine elders. "At leassssst, we are willing to talk about it."

"Could be worsssse!" Fido smiled dumbly. "Jussssst minutessss ago, we were aiming a catapult at you!"

"Shut it!" Spot hissed.

Spitfire did a double-take. "Excuse me?!?"

"Heeeeeeeeeey..." Flash Sentry sweated nervously, waving a hoof. "But it's all gravy now! Look! We talked some sense into them and—"

"All this time, you were threatening us with long-ranged weapons?!" Spitfire fumed. She immediately gestured to her subordinates. "Wonderbolts! Get the ambassadors back aboard the Midnight Oil!"

Filthy Rich gasped. "Captain! Wait—"

"Alert Typhoon!" Spitfire hollered. "We're disembarking at once! It's no longer safe here!"

"We have it under control, Spitfire," Soarin' said. "Let the representatives speak."

"This is a clear and present threat!" Spitfire grunted. "You're out of line—"

"You're out of line!" Soarin' suddenly roared. The authoritative rumble in his voice was something Flash hadn't heard from him before, and the teenager visibly flinched. Soarin' frowned in Spitfire's direction. "I know we're here to protect Equestrian interests, but pulling out now would only be detrimental to that. I'm sorry, Captain, but there will be no disembarking—not until the negotiations are done."

Spitfire blinked. She hovered numbly, as if drained of all menace. "Soarin'—?"

"As I said..." Soarin' cast one final glare as his voice softened slightly without losing the firmness. "We have it under control." He looked towards the three ambassadors. "Your Eminence, are you still prepared to speak to the representatives of High Paw?"

Blueblood exchanged glances with Filthy Rich and Fancy Pants. The three stallions collectively smiled in Soarin's direction. "That we are. Much appreciated."

Soarin' nodded back. He looked at Spitfire.

Spitfire clenched her jaw... sighed... and muttered aside to her fellow wingmates: "Remain on guard. All eyes on the ambassadors at all times." She threw a shrill whistle towards the Midnight Oil high above. "How about we get some tents down here?! Huh?! Move it!"

By then, Rover and his two companions had reached the elders. The diamond dogs of High Paw engaged in a quiet, sincere huddle, murmuring intensely with one another. Flash Sentry watched as Fancy Pants and his partners drew together in similar preparation.

A yellow shape streaked in Flash Sentry's peripheral. He turned to see Spitfire drifting past him. The mare threw him a death glare, then squinted similarly at Soarin'. Upon receiving a calm, friendly look from Soarin' in return, the Captain of the Wonderbolts let loose a raspy sigh and zipped off to patrol the plateau from a higher altitude.

Soarin' flexed his wing muscles and stood tall, stalwart.

Flash leaned in. "I bet that felt good on some level."

Soarin's nostrils flared. "Perhaps." He gulped. "But a good part of me still feels like shit."

Flash nodded. "Welcome to real life."

"Mmmm..." Soarin' spoke out the side of his muzzle. "Still, good work."

"Yeah, well..." Flash smirked as he stared at the proceedings. "You're a friggin' spotlight-stealer."

"Heheheheh."

"Hahaha..."

Comments

[MythrilMoth]

Soarin for the win!

[djthomp]

"Could be worsssse!" Fido smiled dumbly. "Jussssst minutessss ago, we were aiming a catapult at you!"

Oh man. The first rule of catapult club is you don't talk about catapult club. People get all excited and shouty.

[CSC]

Go Soarin!

[howard035]

7985645 I heard if you talk about Catapult Club, you can be ejected from the meeting. That's no fun.

[pahnazd]

Soarin's catharsis. That felt good!

[The Great Derpsby]

"Heheheheh."

"Hahaha..."

derpicdn.net/img/view/2012/9/12/95924__safe_ponified_artist-colon-hotdiggedydemon_beavis+and+butthead_beavis_butthead.png

[ssokolow]

7985564

For me, the only thing which counters the dissatisfying effect of short chapter lengths is that magic author's note "this story is completed in its entirety. It runs XX chapters and will be posted one chapter per day." (cite)

That's what allows the anticipation and excitement to be unshackled from the wall of protective cynicism that I've built up over the last 15 years of reading fanfiction and, without that, it's just a case of "each update is over before you can really get into it".

[IceKitsune]

Soarin's yelling was great to see even for me. He had likely been holding that back for a while, even if he didn't really realise it himself.

[Damaged]

Ever seen Her Majesty's countenance

Ever seen Her Highness's countenance

Majesty is the royal address for king/queen. Highness is for prince/princess.

Great chapter!

[Truthseeker]

Man, Spitfire had a moment of epic stupidity there. Saddens me when intelligent individuals go stupid.

[Spiritus Arcane]

7986632
Eh, Spitfire seems to be the type that needs her nose rubbed in her stupidity before she sees it.

[KMCA]

7985887 Ejected from the club... by a catapult?