Chapter 19: “FOR EYEBROW!”
The next few weeks go by in a blur. Getting Runway settled in with all of the stuff from her storage locker is quite the chore, now that dear old mom isn’t paying for it. And by chore, I mean we had to spend a day moving it to an identical locker three doors down that she paid for out of pocket, a solution we almost came to a day late and a dollar short. Almost.
I still went to work as usual, both for the Weather Factory (who was surprised to get a rather considerate note from Captain Spitfire as to why I’d missed a few days), and the Wonderbolts. I was surprised to find that, even with Runway working PR for the team, we didn’t see each other at work as much as I’d thought we would.
Which still is a number greater than zero. “Ey, Dusty!” Runway calls from a table in the back of the cafeteria. It’s been about a month since she landed the job and moved in with me indefinitely, and I’m still getting used to her being around all the time.
I nod my acknowledgment, and trot over with a bag lunch in my mouth. Runway and I had taken to making our own lunches, after she’d gotten a little too nosy about how the cafeteria here prepares its food. Some things were just never meant for mortal eyes. I plop down in the booth next to her, and drop my bag on the table. “So how’s like, the universe, and everything been treating you?” I ask, giving her a gentle elbow as she goes to take a bite of her sandwich. Her… whatever the buck that is sandwich. Why is it pink?
“Well, it’s a hell of a lot easier, I’ll tell you what,” she drawls, taking a bite and mewling pleasantly. “Wan sum?” she asks with her mouth full, offering her sandwich to me.
“Not even if it meant I’d never have to do laps again,” I deadpan. “I swear, you’re the only pony I know who’s here more often than the Captain. Most of the main team isn’t even here every day. Not to mention the recruits.”
“You mean you?” she jabs, returning my earlier elbow with a bit more enthusiasm.
“...ow. And as a matter of fact, no,” I say gleefully, holding up a little black box with a shiny badge in it.
“WhaaAAAAT?!” she cries, taking in the sight. “They made you a full-on Wonderbolt?! NO WAI.”
“Yes ‘wai’.” I take out the badge, polish it on my fur, and put it on. “Spitfire said that, between my obvious flying skill, and the recent ‘leaps and bounds’ I’d made in learning about teamwork, loyalty, and, y’know, NOT demolishing ponies with unnatural disasters, that I’d put together the necessary mare-hours and passed all the tests for full rank ages ago. She just wanted to wait for me to pull my head out of my flank. Which, to be honest, was largely your doing.”
“Oh I know,” she says smugly. “You still owe me a new crowbar.”
“Ouch,” says a gravelly voice nearby. I look up to see our Captain taking a seat on Runway’s other side. “You, uh, you need a trip to the burn ward, Rod?”
My sister raises an eyebrow at me. “Uh, ‘Rod’?”
Before I can answer, Spitfire explains, “It’s her new call sign. We all get one. Hell, Rainbow ‘Crash’ made a huge deal about hers. At first.”
Runway turns to me. “Explain.”
I heave a sigh, and put down the veggie wrap I was about to take a bite out of. “See, each of our ‘call signs’ is a form of hazing. Rainbow ‘Crash’ got hers for what I understand to me the most spectacular wipe-out in Wonderbolt history.”
“Hehe, yeah,” Spitfire chuckled.
“I got mine two days ago, when they first promoted me. I’d gotten so excited about finally being a full-fledged team member that I did a few victory laps. During one of which I decided to plow straight through a cloud, y’know, basic stuff. Unfortunately, that cloud happened to be hiding a cleverly disguised napping pegasus of the Rainbow variety. I crashed right into her, knocking her out of the cloud, and I got stuck,” I explain.
Runway gives me a look. “Stuck.”
“Yeah-huh,” Spitfire chimes in helpfully.
“In a cloud.”
“Yup.”
“...go on.”
I roll my eyes. “So I’m stuck in this cloud, right? And Rainbow’s all mad that the ‘newbie’ knocked her out of her sleeping perch when she’s supposed to be running drills on the new recruit-hopefulls. So she decides to buck the cloud I’m in, and knock me out of it. But as it turns out, she’d used a cloud from the wrong part of storage. The reason I got stuck was because it was super super dense. And It was super dense because it was a storm cloud. So, a bajillion volts later, I fall out of the freakin sky, and land on Soarin’s back. Of course, I’m still like, electrically charged, and the cloud ain’t done doin’ what it do, so it lets loose another lightning bolt. And electrocutes us both.”
At this point Runway is rolling in her booth she’s laughing so hard. “Oh… oh my stars. So your… your call sign is ‘Lightning Rod’?”
“Yeah-huh,” Spitfire says again, taking a sip of soda.
“BWAHAHAHAHA.”
I look at my smug as buck Captain, then at my sister, rolling on the seat laughing. “Hey Captain, did I ever tell you about the time Runway accidentally ‘presented herself’ to Princess Celestia?”
Spitfire does a spit-take, and leans over the table with more enthusiasm than I’ve ever seen. “TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME.”
Runway sits bolt upright, all joy gone from her face as if she’d never experienced it before. “Dusty...”
“Yeah, it’s a great story. Also why she’s not allowed in the castle anymore,” I elaborate. A detail that I know is a rather sore spot for Runway.
My sister’s upper face looks like it’s convulsing. Her eyebrow is twitching violently, yet she’s trying to glare daggers at me. I’m not sure who’s winning. “You better not.”
I make a point of looking at her thoughtfully, then returning to the story. “Ok, so she’s supposed to be modeling this dress for Princess Twilight’s coronation, and Princess Celestia-”
“FOR EYEBROW!” my sister shouts, diving at me viciously.
“WHOA MAMA!”