//------------------------------//
// Defiance 
// Story: A War 
// by Comma Typer 
//------------------------------//

A black pegasus in full Wonderbolt suit locked the door in the darkness.
His eyes darted about. "Is everything ready?"
"Everything's ready!" he heard Rainbow Dash say.
"Pizza's here?"
"Yeah!"
"Soda's here?"
"Yeah!"
"That means everything else is here."
No word.
"Then, let's get this party started!"
Lights turned on.
The Wonderbolts, the Rock Troopers, and several other soldiers from various other divisions jumped up, shouting as balloons and streamers and confetti decorated the mess hall in a party atmosphere. A vinyl player pumped out upbeat party music, and some danced. Others sat on the tables and ate some of the sweet food from the buffet area: cakes, pies, cakepies, cookies, donuts, bagels, chocolates, and candies. The salad bowls were left untouched, to be preserved for a long time (or for whenever somepony would eat the salad later on). Soarin, the second highest in command of the Wonderbolts, wore a lampshade on his head as he danced awkwardly, getting the (unneeded) attention of his cadets. Pinkie Pie, the orchestrator of the whole party, was blindfolded as she held a fake tail, playing a game of "Pin the Tail on the Pony" with impromptu fans cheering for her. Radar, general of the armies holding the Manehattan Front, talked about his favorite desserts with a group of soldiers at a table. A few more ponies blew their party blowers, creating lots of noise that forced others to cover their ears.
Thunderlane walked through the madness of a party that went on. A pony was flung across the air only to be caught by somepony else. He approached Maud who was sitting at another table, drinking some apple juice. "Uh, don't you wanna join the party?"
Maud looked at him. "I am partying."
"You...don't look like it," Thunderlane said. "Aren't you happy for your sister that she could throw parties and celebrations out of the blue?"
Maud blinked. "Yes."
"But, you're not, uh, doing other things."
A pause. "I have my own way of partying."
He glanced left and right. "OK, then. Enjoy!"
Thunderlane left her table and walked to Pinkie Pie who was now cheering a blindfolded Rainbow Dash as she tried to pin the tail. He tapped her shoulder.
She turned around. "Oh! Hi, Thunderlane! You like it, huh?"
"The party? Yeah." He chuckled. "How could you pull it off?"
"Well, I've been a natural ever since I discovered my true purpose was to make ponies smile!" Pinkie rambled while smiling. "And, what better way to make ponies smile than to throw a party? So, when I enlisted, I brought my professional party skills with me! Even my party cannon's with me! Too bad you didn't see it in action." He ruffled his mane. "It gets things done in seconds! Not miliseconds, and certainly not at the speed of Fili-Second who is super fast! Although, if you could imagine Fili-Second pushing and firing my party cannon throughout Maretropolis—wouldn't that be the greatest story from the 'Power Ponies'! Do you like the Power Ponies?"
"Uh...what?"
"Silly me!" Pinkie stuck out her tongue and put on a party hat. "I should've shown you my collection much earlier! But, eh—" shrugged her shoulders "—we've got better things to think about like a par-tay! Want some punch?" She brought a punch bowl complete with a ladle and a glass on her other hoof.
"Oh, don't mind if I—"
And whacked by a punching glove.
Pinkie (and some others who had witnessed it) snickered, covering her mouth as she put the bowl down. "You didn't see that one coming, did you? A punch bowl?! Oh, Thunderlane, you should always be suspicious of ponies who give you punch bowls for no obvious reason!"
Thunderlane rubbed his throbbing snout, red and swelling. "Yeah, Pinkie. You got me good."
"Hey, Pinkie!" Rainbow shouted from afar, at a wall where a poster of a tailless pony was tacked on. "It's your turn! Everypony wants you back!"
"Goodie!" Pinkie said, clasping her hooves and shaking them as she hopped her way to the game, leaving Thunderlane with a slightly damaged face.



The night continued, the moon rising higher and higher in the sky, the clocks in the barracks ticking ever closer to midnight. But, despite how late it was getting, the party remained and it showed no signs of stopping. Ponies danced to even more party music as the cafeteria chefs and cooks resupplied the buffet table with more food, dancing a little to the beat as well. However, more ponies were sitting down, eating and drinking as they talked and joked and discussed and laughed.
Pinkie, Maud, and Rainbow sat at their own table, having a feast of their own: more than just cakes and pies and cakepies, there was ice cream, cream puffs, waffles, and pancakes with lots of syrup poured and drizzled all over.
"Midnight snack?" Rainbow said, gazing at the food with a competitive eye. "We got a midnight dinner and then some! How were you able to whip this up in such short notice, Pinkie?"
"I have my ways," Pinkie replied before guzzling down some of the syrup from its bowl. A burp that smelled of syrup. She hoofed the bowl to Rainbow. "Want some? I made it out of...maple leaves. Not maple sap. Maple leaves. I crushed them myself with pestle and mortar custom-made and custom-ordered for I have my own custom mode and method of ordering syrup." She closed her eyes and patted her own head, congratulating herself. "You see, I have a very complicated pie-ling system even though I don't look the type."
Rainbow dropped her jaw. "Wow. I didn't expect that from your type."
"I know." Pinkie then chomped an entire stack of pancakes and half of it was gone.
Maud took a nibble of a cookie.
"Alright!" Rainbow shouted. "Count me in! Let's make it last longer!"
And the two took turns taking bites out of the stack of pancakes, each bite eating at the little tower until it was completely gone except for some crumbs.
Maud saw, then, an empty plate.



A candle flickered on the table.
Another sigh escaped Thunderlane's lips. The pegasus sat down on the floor, before his trunk and his bed. Far out, muffled music and cheer. In here, rows of bunk beds and small windows that allowed an adequate amount of moonlight into the bedroom.
He picked up the quill, focused on the parchment.
And wrote.
Rumble,
A month and a week. Not exactly, but that's how long I've been in the service. I could tell you plenty of stuff from just today,
let alone what we did since last time I made a letter. In fact, by the time you receive this letter, you'll already know that we stopped one of the most widespread invasions on our front yet. That's going to give Sombra a run for his money! As I'm writing, there's a big party going on downstairs to celebrate. Who knew those "stoic" Rock Troopers could throw a mean party?
But, that's not why I'm writing this letter to you.
I know I've said many times that I miss you, maybe to the point that you're getting sick of it. I've also read your replies and know how many times you said that you miss me—I'm not sick of it yet, if you're wondering!
However, I've been here for over a month. The lines haven't changed that much. The Crystal ponies are retreating, but they're retreating very slowly. Sometimes, I think there's something fishy behind this retreat.
Because of that, I don't know if I'm coming home before the Equestria Games.
I don't have much else on my mind. I'm already getting misgivings from a certain Wonderbolt for writing these "sappy" letters from time to time.
Keep being awesome, Rumble!

Your brother, Thunderlane
Hoofsteps.
Thunderlane turned to the door.
Another set of hoofsteps.
Halted.
Whispered words. More irritated, more exasperated.
Then, hoofsteps away.
The other ones closer and closer.
Spitfire opened the door, holding a flashlight with her wing, catching Thunderlane in its glaring ray.
He covered his eyes. "Ah! Spitfire?"
She turned off the flashlight and removed her sunglasses. "Gotta stand up for you. Crash was sneaking up on you since you were taking so long to come back." She took an open-wing leap closer to him. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah." Thunderlane nodded. Choked once again. "As long as Mom, Dad, and Rumble are fine back in Ponyville, then everything's alright."
"You sure about that?" Spitfire asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Trust me. I'm fine."
Spitfire wiped some sweat off of her face. "Well, then." She offered a helping hoof.
Thunderlane took it and stood up.
"Your worries can wait a little longer," Spitfire said as the two walked back out of the room, through the door.
The music became louder with every step.



By morning, the mess hall lived up to its name since it was a messy hall. Party decorations scattered about on the floor and on the tables and on the walls and even hanging on the fans; leftovers sitting under glass domes as mosquitoes hovered above them, failing at their attempts to get to those sweet desserts. General garbage and trash everywhere.
The poor janitors sweeped the floor clean as General Radar walked by and exited the barracks.
Outside, activity: Carriages came and went, picking up and putting down soldiers—most of them relatively fresh recruits as could be judged by their sparkling eyes and their wide smiles, admiring the barracks in front of them; pegasi fighting enemy clouds that thundered, pushing them back to where they came from; more soldiers rushing from one spot to another as they conveyed information to pass along to the next pony in line.
Radar furrowed his brows at everything he saw, standing there and never moving from that spot.



"I can't believe this is the closest we'll get to the actual war," Star Tracker said as he and Script stood on the paved path leading to a gate.
It was heavily fortified for a gate. Four watchtowers with four guards each, twenty guards at each structure that could be described as more than a wall, and two guards before the gate itself. A metal sign was posted nearby, stating in bold words: "ONLY AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL. TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. SURVIVORS WILL BE PURSUED, SHOT, ARRESTED,
AND SENT TO COURT."
"Very close, indeed," Script said.
The two guards glowered at the visitors.
"Uh, maybe we should hitch a ride h-home?" Tracker asked, stepping back and sweating. "Getting pursued, shot, arrested, and sent to court wasn't part of the plan for the day. Like, a taxi! Yeah, where's a taxi when y-you need one?" He faced the guards—more sweating, more awkward smiling.
"Let's go," Script said, grabbing and dragging him as they headed their way out, the land before them acres and acres of hilly farmland and their houses.
A taxi skidded to a stop and another pegasus jumped out. He threw a bit at the rider's face. "Thank you, sir!"
Zephyr stormed his way to the gate, shoving the two to the side—
"Hey! You can't do that! I got here first!"
"My love needs me first!" Zephyr shouted at Tracker. "I've worried and waited too long for this day when we'll meet again!"
Tracker and Script looked at each other, nodded, and zipped to the taxi.
"Get us back to Manehattan. Chestnut Street." Script gave the driver some bits which he put inside the pouch he was wearing.
A stamp.
The two passengers and the driver turned their attention toward Zephyr who stood against the gate's many guards.
"Actually, let's not go yet," Script said, holding out a hoof at the driver. "I wanna see how this unfolds."
They looked on, leaning forward and straining their ears.
"Hear me!" Zephyr shouted, raising a fist in the air. "I'm Zephyr Breeze, the one true lover of the Wonderbolt known as Rainbow Dash!"
"Seize him!"
And some guards tackled him to the ground.



Blurry eyes. Rubbing eyes and forehead. Clouds, stable clouds, clouds that did not move.
Ceiling.
"What?!" He sat up on the couch. "Where am I? Have I been kidnapped?! Those evil guards, Dash! They were brainwashed by that evil king of the Crystal Empire! I'm so glad that you're safe and sound!"
"Uh, who's safe and sound?" Mr. Shy asked, sitting beside Mrs. Shy on an adjacent couch.
Zephyr screamed. "Dad! Mom! What are you doing here? You can't possibly be here, uh, my dear parents! Uh, heh-heh-heh, you don't know what danger lurks behind that gate!" He pointed behind him.
He ended up pointing at some stairs.
"You're home," Mrs. Shy said with that quiet voice. "In the living room, to be precise."
"Living room?!" Zephyr yelled, looking around him to see that he was, indeed, in the living room with its paintings, fireplace, chairs, tables, and other items. "I'm—I'm home? How, where, why, what?!" He smacked his head with his forehooves. "Last thing I remembered was those barbarous soldiers who understood nothing of our destined love—"
"They sent you here," Mr. Shy said. "They even bandaged you up, which is very kind of them."
"I'm bandaged?!" and raised a hoof to his face. Some bandages were strewn about. "Agh! Where did these come from?!"
"From their first aid kits," Mrs. Shy replied. "I think."
"But, we're so far away from Rainbow Dash!" Zephyr yelled, smacking his head again. "What if Rainbow Dash gets hurt?! Have you heard of stories of pegasi getting their wings cut off?!"
His parents recoiled. "Uh, you're worrying too much, son," Mr. Shy said.
Mrs. Shy nodded in agreement. "Your mind must've been fried after what they did to you. All you need is lots of rest. You can't continue your job as a barista with not enough energy, which is bad."
Zephyr groaned as he flew upstairs in a flash.



In the afternoon, Mr. Shy sat alone in the living room, some glass containers with their clouds moving about. One was a nice, fluffy cloud, changing shape a little as it floated. Another was a gray cloud, zapping out lightning—a little thunder could be heard.
He could also hear sobbing from the dining room.
Mr. Shy patted the containers on the table and walked his way there.
At the table, Bow Hothoof and Windy Whistles crying.
He turned to his wife who was comforting them with a warm grip and a box of tissues. "Honey, what's going on?"
"They're still sad over Rainbow Dash not being with them," she replied, balking at another bout of intense wailing and giving them another heap of tissues.
Mr. Shy sighed as he sat down on a chair.
It was a sunny day outside. He could see it through the window.
"Our Dashie!" Bow said through his tears. "Where could she be?!"
"If only you could visit!" Windy yelped, slamming the table with her hooves. "We could see you, hug you, say that you're the best!"
Mrs. Shy grabbed more tissue.