"Bit Rate's late again!"
"My last class is on the opposite side of the school!"
"Lazy millennial video game junkie–"
"Busy Body, why don't you just go golfing? Only thing you're good for!"
"MY SLICE IS GOD-TIER YOU COFFEE-CHUGGING FREAK."
"Busy Body! Line up!"
"Grrrr..."
The Pegasus, lower lip pouted out like she'd just been told not to stick her hoof into the cookie jar, flexed her chin upward, reached a hoof up, and tightened her straight tie. Satisfied, and letting out a little hum—as well as something under her breath that sounded vaguely like a prayer for a choking on vegan brownies—she trotted almost regally back to her two crew members' sides and took the position in front of their little triangle.
The Tankery class were all standing on the concrete floor just outside of the tank garages, the building's doors wide open in anticipation of the day's activities that were—assuredly—due to occur after roll call. With Bit Rate here, it seemed that everypony was present and accounted for.
The Jocks whispered loudly to one another, giggling and chuckling here and there at what Duck knew to be inside jokes and foggy-eyed recollections of not-even-close games long lost. The Hipsters, paying credit to Busy Body's tried and true insult, stood on threes and drank with one, quietly conversing about their meet-up after the school day finished to go and relax at the Ponyville Spa a couple blocks down the street, with smiles on their faces and teeth lightly scraping their tongues after each sip. The Nerds, newly completed, swiftly pulled the late Bit Rate into their tight circle, now continuing their heated discussion about something called "Smash" with a new participant to provide insight. The Candidates, as if wary of snipers or something in similar form or fashion, cautiously panned their gazes around the immediate area with glares drawing on their brows and straight frowns pasted on their mouths.
Duck, lifting her own chin up to stop looking down at the absolute nothing on the ground awhile, caught sight of a pink hoof waving in front of her face. Bunching up a cheek in an assuredly ungodsly-looking grin, she spun about to find a very bouncy Flurry giving her a perfect-looking smile and a pair of shut eyes.
"How are you doing today, Duck?"
Uh...
...well, actually, she was going to ponder on the negatives like she usually did whenever somepony cared enough—or was merciful enough—to ask her the same question, but... she hadn't had many today, apart from a few hiccups that were just that: little, and minor, but still frankly annoying bits that stuck out, but not too much, upon recollection. She'd jotted down enough notes in her EQ History notebook to fill up both sides of her new scrap of paper while able to absorb Mr. Bon's long-winded lecture; Oceanography had gone pretty okay, to be honest, with a quiet workday on their week's questions that Duck—having already turned the assignment in on Tuesday, albeit hesitantly, being the only one who'd actually done so—was able to take advantage of to relax and catch up on her chapter of It's A Bit Of A– guh, no, she'd... um, she'd worked on next week's assignment; she'd had time to work on her English essay without a fuss or any real stoppage; in her Economics class, she'd scored a pretty high mark on their online assignment, so she was feeling pretty proud of herself. Maybe she should tell Flurry! She'd be happy to hear it!
Duck's eyes flew to the ground on her left, but—though her head remained facing away—she gazed at Flurry and resisted the urge to rub one of her forelegs idly. "I'm... okay."
"Did you finish studying for that math test last night after you got back?" Arco asked her.
To be honest, she'd gotten fairly far in her AP Calculus book munching on a bowl of Cheerilee-o's, but, feeling that she'd been doing good this week, she'd pushed away her inner desire to stay up studying and decided that she deserved a good night's sleep for once. Though she did eat another bowl after decreeing such. Then another. Then she turned on her television and finished up the last hour and a half of the documentary she and the others had been watching when they'd eaten at her apartment, since she hadn't been able to fully hear the voice-overs over the sounds of her friends talking and didn't want to miss anything if she could help it. And then she'd finished her box and, too distraught to continue—and having the daunting realization that she'd have to brave the grocery store to buy more—fell asleep on her couch and not her comfy, cozy, much-better-for-her-back-and-pretty-much-everything bed literally a few feet away but also miles apart. And then she'd woken up, her mane all bunched up wrong and wrapped around her like a blanket, and then she'd fallen off because her couch was thinner than her bed, and, face-first on the floor, she'd finally found that pencil she dropped on her carpet the week prior, placed it on her desk, got up, and did her chores before heading to school after another bowl of breakfast. This time it was Wheat Thix. She didn't like those as much.
"A little..."
"That's good," Flurry sang, "I felt a little bad when I got home, thinking we'd made you skip out on even more work."
"I got so much sleep when I got home!" Graham declared, raising up her forelegs and bending them outward at the elbow excitedly. "I put down my bag and books and just passed out on my bed until midnight. And then I couldn't sleep anymore, so I just watched TV until school started!"
"Were you up all night, Flurry?" Arco asked, looking the Alicorn's way and nudging her in the side with a pointy elbow.
A single droplet of sweat trickled down her face.
"No."
"Good, I was–"
"I had so much homework to do when I got home it was too much for me but I got it done don't worry!" Flurry erupted, throwing up her hooves in an instant and interrupting Arco's feignly reassured sentence. If she'd been playing a card game, she would have just sent the entire table fifteen miles into the skies above.
Arco chuckled. "Please, would I worry about the Flurry Heart?"
Flurry blinked, opening her mouth to respond, but quickly shut it and faced forward as Mrs. Red's voice suddenly piped up from far to the line's right.
"Aaall right, then! Good morning, class!" Mrs. Red began heartily, beaming almost as bright as the much-brighter sun hanging daintily over all their heads. Sitting on her haunches, she let out a little hum to herself and outright shoved both her forelegs into her hips, observing her class. Scanning the faces—possibly to aid her calling roll by quickening its pace—she reached to her side and pulled a pencil and clipboard out of literally nowhere, pulling it up in front of her face and continuing as if the object was her subject, "Gimme a second or so to take roll really quickly, and I'll tell you all what's on the table today." She looked over her clipboard, then back down. "I have some very exciting news as well that I'd like to share once I'm done!"
At that, the Tankery class stopped what other things they were doing to pay attention and try not to get on the teacher's bad side, the Jocks especially who, miles apart from their usual pastime of hurling a Hoofball to one another while waiting for her, simply stopped talking and stared straight ahead in anticipation of their names being recited.
Plastic Beach, first lowering her headphones' blasting volume, stared down at her phone, then just shut her music off entirely and pulled her accessory down around her neck. Bit Rate lightly dropped her bags and stuffed her hoofheld into her jacket's pocket which, due to the jacket pocket's sizes being relatively... small led to more than half the device poking dangerously out the top.
The Candidates, apparently in the middle of signing some kind of document, turned their heads at the sudden silence and pencil scribbling with annoyed glares. They stowed away their inkwells and quills. Blank Check rolled up their declaration of possible, hopeful independence.
Somepony nearby unmistakably clapped a book shut so hard that, if Duck were just barely an inch closer, would have rang her ears and temporarily deafened her as if an artillery shell had exploded directly over her head. A head peeked out from around the group of millennial heads and as if she'd heard Duck's inner fright, Candle Light whispered a silent apology and pushed her tome into her backpack.
"All right, then, I suppose I'll start at my end." Mrs. Red cleared her throat. "Lily Pad!"
"Here!"
She made a quick check on her list.
"Hail Mary!"
"Here, ma'am."
"Field Goal."
"Here."
"Peanut Brittle?"
"Sorry, right here."
"Pssst!"
"Whipgrass!"
"Here!"
"Pssssssst!"
"Next team. Busy Body..."
"Of course, ma'am."
"Blank Check."
"How are you today, ma'am?"
A tea green mare with a mocha brown mane slid in front of Duck's face, waving her forelegs about like one of those inflatable tube mares on the business district. "PSSSSSSSSST!"
"Wah!"
Duck shrank back, but, realizing the complete lack of danger apart from eating too many greens, exercising until she was dead tired, listening to shrill falsettos, and bruising her hooves plucking acoustic guitar strings, stood straight and gave Pine Needle a look that told tales of "for everything that the Gods have stood for next time that happens I might very well fall on the floor, roll onto my back, and stick my four legs straight up in a terrible rigor mortis not unlike Austro-Humarians in the Venetians long ago."
Vanilla Pudding, edging close, poked Duck in the shoulder. "Where did you guys all head to yesterday?"
Duck opened her mouth to give them an honest reply.
"Yeah, what the hell dude?" Pine Needle interrupted her, sloshing her styrofoam coffee cup around. "You missed out!" Pine hummed, striking a bit of a pose—or at least the best-looking one she could muster still grasping her cup in a hoof. "Hmph. We learned about all kinds of tank stuff. Shell types, weaknesses, positions– hey, did you know that the Japaneighse Type 89 is a medium tank, not a light tank?"
"I, uh..."
"We went to see Arco's mom in the hospital," Flurry informed them.
"She okay?" Pine and Vanilla both asked simultaneously. Arco nodded, and they flashed a grin each.
"After that, we went to a restaurant and ate some food together!" Graham chirped giddily.
"The Outcasts go off and eat a nice lunch together, and we're stuck in school learning about HE shells..." Pine griped, crossing her forelegs.
Outcasts? Was that the others' name for her crew?
...
She guessed it was fair, considering she had unofficial names for the other class' crews. And... Outcasts fit fairly well, all things considered. She was shy, pumped full of anxiety, and jumped at the slightest noise next to her even if it was a feather lightly touching down on a bed of other feathers. Arco was a stallion in a mare's sport, and clearly butted heads with many other ponies older than him before. Graham didn't seem to interact with other ponies apart from Duck and the others, possibly scaring ponies away from a nice mare with her admittedly patchy announcements. Flurry was, to Duck, completely out of every living pony's league. And Bluebell was... mean, probably literally pushing ponies out of her life's way unless their names were Mocha Frappe or Starburst.
The Outcasts, the Jocks, the Candidates, the Hipsters, and the Nerds. What a team.
"The marshmallow hooves learned about angling from Mrs. Red," Candle Light added, sipping from her lid rather noisily and derailing Duck's train of thought, knocking its conductor unconscious, throwing its coal ponies out the sides, and flipping the whole locomotive end over end until it fell into a rocky canyon, which gave way to a riverbed, leading them down an unforgiving waterfall, which led to a big old spider web and everypony died. But, um... the Jocks had learned how to angle their Tiger to maximize its survivability. Good, actually. "They're really, really bad at it. Definitely won't emanate any Wittman vibes, am I right?" Bad, actually. That last part Candle asked with a waggled eyebrow, knowing full well what Duck would think about such a statement.
But, as it was, she didn't realize the immeasurable impact the name would cause Duck.
If not for the water still fresh in her system from the little fountain on the way to class by the front door, and the relatively pleasant day she was currently having both weather-wise and academic-wise, Duck was sure she would have involuntarily rolled her eyes back up into the back of her head and fainted on the spot upon the slightest mention of the beginning letters to the Griffonian panzer commander. A blinding, searing, rushing wave blasted through her body like she had just finished a divebomb on the Hear-You and, with a newly-found ringing deafening her ears for a few seconds, she shook her head vigorously and tried to violently waggle it all out. Sucking on her teeth, she prayed that Candle Light hadn't noticed her very public display and cracked open an eye to see if she'd been granted a reprieve. Sure enough, Candle was temporarily involved in a conversation with Sweet Tea next to her, turning her head and giving a quick reply to the mare's question.
Duck had only known Candle for a couple weeks now, but their surprisingly shared interest of Never War history was something Duck was more than happy to actually have in the first place. Candle seemed nice enough, as well, and even appeared to enjoy bringing up the hypotheticals from time to time. Maybe she didn't have many other people interested in Never War dissection either.
Duck smiled, pushing down the memories of the Griffonian name to focus on its more hypothetical facts. "I... guess not. Though we'd have to take them to Kursk to see if they could really sh-shine."
Candle Light giggled. "Ah, that would be a fair test. Though they'd be up against fierce competition."
Duck smirked.
"Would you two stop getting lady boners over Never War junk?!" Pine Needle shouted, scrunching up her muzzle and frowning deeply. "You guys are so boring; talk about music or books or something cooler."
Disturbed, Duck and Candle Light both scratched the backs of their heads, showing a wide grin to the caffeine addict who only bunched up a cheek in response.
"Caffeine stunts your growth," Flurry regarded Pine cheekily.
Pine blanched, almost choking on her coffee.
"Pine Needle!"
"COUGH, mmph, here!"
"Candle Light!"
"Present, Mrs. Red."
Mrs. Red liked the response, lingering on the young mare for just a moment further with a smile before taking a large, overdramatic step to her right. She looked down at her board. "Duck Bill?"
Duck cleared her throat. "H-here!"
Mrs. Red flashed her teeth behind her clipboard, her eyebrows being the only indication she'd done so.
"Arco Piano."
"Here."
"Flurry Heart?"
"Here, ma'am."
"Graham Cracker?"
"Hi, Mrs. Red!"
"Hmm, Bluebell?"
Bluebell had been fairly quiet all afternoon, not butting in with one of her rather blunt remarks or chiming in with something sounding a little like disgruntlement in the form of a clearly in-denial tsundere, a Japaneighse term Duck wasn't familiar with and kept forgetting to look up the definition to. She'd try to remember to look it up online this time. She still trusted Arco's very, very adamant explanation of, "Trust me." So she did, although still very much in wonderment and questioning of the whole thing. Whatever it was, or so happened to be, its very utterance caused genuine upset and anger in Bluebell to the point that Duck thought she'd outright punch Arco—who usually said it—right in his blue face. Which would make it red. What color would that make, combined, then? Purple, right?
Actually...
Come to think of it, it was... wholly uncharacteristic of Bluebell to not have said anything by now.
Duck turned, expecting to find the Unicorn tuning out the rest of the world by disturbing an ant's nest with a magnifying glass, or playing with broken glass or something. She'd look up at her spin and puff out her cheeks like a balloon as she frowned, upset that Duck had distracted her, and go all red-faced as Duck only apologized instead of putting up a complaint or a quarter-hearted fight of some sort, her lips in the shape of a troubled H that really let itself go over summer break and chowed down on nothing but ice cream and chocolate milk every hour it was awake.
Instead, Duck gasped, watching as a Bluebell-shaped dashed outline blinked in and out of existence in front of her for a few seconds before disappearing completely.
Bluebell wasn't here! Gone! Poof! Absent! Missing! Away!
"Bluebell?" Mrs. Red asked again, lowering her clipboard and looking over Duck's shoulder, her brow turning blue. "Is Bluebell absent?"
"I..." Duck cleared her throat, "I saw her, earlier today, unless she left after third period ended..."
"Has anypony else seen Bluebell since lunch?" Mrs. Red called over the rest of the class, lowering her clipboard and placing her other hoof against her hip again. Met with shrugs, shaking heads, and quiet "nopes"—and, from Busy Body, a gesture that Duck had never seen before but one she immediately realized to be astronomically offensive, considering the caster—she rolled her eyes, grasped her pencil in a hoof like a snake, and scribbled something down on her name chart that sounded like a simple X. "I doubt she'd have the transportation nor the know-how to straight up leave the school, so..."
"She's probably in some other class right now," Flurry finished flatly.
Mrs. Red, as if needing Flurry to fully realize the dilemma, slowly lowered herself to a crouched position as if to tie her loose boot laces back up into a neat double-knot that would somehow end up tangled in a bush near the academy grounds and then trip you and make the others in your division laugh at you and then you'd have to not stare your mother in the face that night uuuhhhhh... dropped her clipboard—which clattered on the concrete floor—rose back up, sank to her haunches, settled there seemingly at peace for three whole seconds, lowered her head, dipped her chin, and buried her face in her two hooves quietly.
Much of the class gasped at once.
"Mrs. Red?!"
"Mrs. Red are you okay?!"
One of her hooves twitched on the clipboard. She mumbled something under her breath. And then under that.
"What was that?"
"What'd you say, Mrs. Red?!"
"Mrs. Red!"
"Nopony skips my class on my watch."
Duck didn't flinch. She didn't even widen her eyes. In fact, she narrowed them. Hadn't... they... just done that yesterday?
"What?" Arco asked next to her.
Her hoof twitched ag–
"RAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Mrs. Red jumped up onto her hindlegs, arching her back like a slinky backward and snapping her clipboard in half like it was a stray dry spaghetti noodle straight out of the packaging that Duck couldn't stop eating. "Nopony skips my class on my watch! You find her, and you bring her here!"
The Candidates all raised hooves to point at Duck and the remnants of her crew.
"But Mrs. Red, didn't Duck and–"
"DUCK!"
"Guh!" Duck jumped back, but stood her ground and puffed out her chest. "Y-yes ma'am?!"
"Go find Bluebell! And take your crew with you!"
Flurry sank fishhooks into the sides of her lips. "Mrs. Red...?! Why are you–"
Mrs. Red karate-chopped the ground, not even wincing even as her hoof met the hard concrete. The Jocks, having been newly one-upped in both tank combat and raw strength by the teacher, went mum. The Candidates all took a step back. The Nerds, clearly conflicted over whether or not to take the distraction as an excuse to pull out their respective devices, began to sweat feverishly. The Hipsters took sips from their mugs.
"FIND HER!"
"I really doubt we're gonna be able to find her."
"Oh hush," Flurry tutted at him, "Bluebell is loud, a jerk, and fairly popular on the other side of the school's Karma spectrum."
"Oh. Mr. Syrup's room."
Flurry tossed her mane, pushing open the one oddly shut door heading into the left hallway of the first floor deeper into the school. "I mean, it's a pretty big chance. Mr. 'Beardo' couldn't care less if you just walk into his room during a class. Think last year a couple of Seniors literally kicked his door down to use his microwave and make Jiffy Snap."
Which you shouldn't–
"Which you shouldn't do," Flurry interrupted Duck's thoughts, as if knowing she had been thinking them. Actually, seeing as how Flurry was an Alicorn, combining all three pony races' strengths, it might not have been a far-fetched assumption. "Blew the whole thing up. Almost made me deaf. And Mr. Syrup just hid the microwave and pretended it was some kid screwing with a water bottle."
Graham suddenly looked over as they walked, eyes wide. "Was that what that was? Near the end of third quarter, right?"
Flurry nodded.
"I've learned enough about bombs traveling around with my parents..." she what?! "...I was this close to ringing up the police department and telling them we had an intruder. Luckily I... kind of... fell out of my chair and disconnected the phone cord."
"Is your home's interior made of plastic?" Arco regarded Graham with a snicker.
"My parents have thought about it a few times, I'll admit."
Arco opened his mouth to further the discussion that was now teetering on a bit of a jokeless border, probably one reinforced with cinder bricks and razor wire, but one look from Flurry—which consisted of a straight frown stretching much wider than Duck had prior thought was physically possible—was enough for him to purse his lips and take the lead back toward this mysterious Mr. Syrup's room. They hadn't... actually had much of a plan upon filing back into Ponyvile High's main commons from the front doors, but the sudden eruption of Mrs. Red, which was still shaking her up a tad, was more than adequate fuel to set them off scurrying to find the Unicorn. From what Mrs. Red had said at the beginning of class, today was set to be fairly important, and knowing the importance of a Tankery team that hadn't even had its first real match yet, the exciting news was probably related to who their first battle would be putting them up against. She really hoped that it turned out not to be such, though.
The inner halls of the school were relatively quiet, even when compared to the low whistles of the wind and the distant activities of Ponyville proper just outside, but seeing as the period had currently been in session for about five or so minutes, it wasn't all too awesome an idea. As they walked down the corridors, with Arco leading bravely, Flurry alongside him and regally making each step as dainty and refined as possible, Graham in front of Duck raising her legs up like she was marching into Pole-Land, and Duck herself looking every which way in case somepony looked at her out of the corner of her eyes, even those classrooms with wide open doors were interrupted with single-line sentences that only just barely escaped the interiors, a few heads turning out of curiosity but quickly losing interest once they disappeared from sight.
Oh Gods, she hoped they weren't causing a disruption of any kind by much-too-casually passing by. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if they all ended up causing some unfortunate young pony to miss out on a bit of crucial information that would have been the one tipping point to help them pass and secure their success of eleven or so years of non-stop school and waking up early and dreading tests and losing friends and avoiding eyes and taming her mane and trying her hardest to win despite feeling like losing all the time. If her very presence alone—just the split-second sight of her—filled a single pony's chance of graduation with a flurry of 88mm Griffonian flak, she might end up sacrificing her own just to make sure her unintended victim didn't suffer, kneeling on her stomach and pleading with a pair of shaking forelegs.
"What's Mr. Syrup teach again?" Graham asked, taking a few quick steps to look Flurry in the eyes as she spoke.
"English. I had him last year." Flurry giggled. "He's actually a pretty cool teacher, always talking about his goats or his family and stuff. Nice music too, whenever we're all quietly working on something."
Arco knitted his eyebrows, attempting a scarf of some kind probably. Duck dropped that hobby pretty quickly. "Aw, lucky. I heard he's really good."
"Who'd you have?" The Alicorn inquired.
"Mrs. Salt."
Graham crinkled her lips like aluminum foil. Flurry sniggered heftily.
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
These were all just names to Duck, as it was. The only teachers she even interacted with, let alone saw at all, were the ones she was being taught under. Mr. Bon, Mr. Arsdale, Mrs. Goodread, Mrs. Ballpoint, Mr. Rich, and Mrs. Red. The few other staff members of the high school who looked at her usually did so with a scowl fixated strongly on their faces and a frown deadset on reaching the floor and making a squeaaaaak as they went by, only to light up and give warm greetings to the pony that so happened to be behind her at the time. Had she done something wrong recently? Or was this another instance of family belonging, which she...
...
...which she didn't belong to anymore?
Her nose burned a bit, and when she reached up to wipe it, she widened her eyes and about tripped into Graham, who had significantly slowed her speed to a crawl to try and start up a conversation with the group's permanent caboose. Fumbling about like she was blind, in the middle of a Yakyakistan snowstorm—probably also starving and thinning out and fighting rats and freezing and also she was in Haulingrad—upside-down, on a frozen-over lakebed, Duck righted herself in a matter of seconds, but the catastrophic, irreparable damage had been deftly dealt.
"Whoa, you all right Duck?" Graham asked, almost flying over and helping her to all fours. Steadying herself, Duck could only bunch up her shoulders and try to let out a response.
"Have you been having a good day, Duck?" Arco asked her, turning his head and expertly continuing his forward trot without even looking. What a guy.
Flurry snippily snapped, "I already asked her that, dummy."
Arco brought up a hoof to yank one of Flurry's cheeks again, but Duck unexpectedly halted his movements.
"Y-yes."
Arco beamed. "That's good, Duck!" He adjusted the collar on his jacket, the back part of it having curled up a bit since he'd last done so. "I hope Bluebell hasn't screwed it up somehow."
Now why would–
"Why's she even in this class, anyway?"
Arco and Graham looked over at Flurry's uncharacteristically hostile aggression.
She stuttered, "U-uh, I mean, not in an annoyed way, I'm just wondering... why did she join in the first place? You'd think, somepony like her, she'd sign up for early dismissal, or something easy she could just breeze through."
"Same reason for Lily and them, maybe?" Arco debated, "The credits?"
"I forgot that was a thing," Flurry admitted, "it hasn't really been... well, really, anything to me so far."
"Oh yeah, the incentives," Graham chimed in, "I wasn't actually able to make it to that assembly since I was doing paperwork for the front desk, but I could hear Sherbet from all the way in the office." She was pretty loud for such a kind-of short Senior, wasn't she? Must have been a good thing to have when you were a Class Speaker.
Talking loud and confidently sounded like a very nice thing...
"Not to say I don't need them," Arco began, "but I... kind of like being with you guys anyway. I'd gladly take the class without the credits, honestly."
He... he didn't mean that.
"Yeah!" Graham much-too-excitedly belted much-too-close to Duck's ears, which went limp instantly and slapped the sides of her head. Not noticing even as she watched the defense mechanism, Graham flexed her chin. "I love hanging out with you, Duck!"
Duck's eyes went wide. She felt her face beginning to burn. Gods, did they have to make the hallway lights so... so, uh... bright...?
At her reddening, Arco, Flurry, and Graham snickered.
Duck looked away. "You don't mean that..."
"Aw, come on, Duck!"
"You're awesome, Duck!"
Now she knew they were just saying these things to her. Probably because of who she was. The quiet mare who probably found a library too loud.
Graham bumped Duck's side with her own, laughing, "I hope you know that I..." she withdrew, scratching the back of her head as they went on, taking a right and then a quick left. "...don't really have too many, um, friends. You guys are really the only ponies I talk to at this school." Her slightly ashamed expression lit-up in a flash. "But I'm glad I know you all! It's been cool being under your command, Duck!"
If she could look away any more, she might do an owl-like one-hundred-and-eighty-degree spin with her head.
"Hey!"
Duck jumped into the air, quickly shuffling backward and taking cover behind Graham's rear. She peeked over the Pegasus' spine to find a tall, rather burly stallion standing against the wall bearing the two maps of Ponyville High, brightly-lit phone in his lowered hoof. Oh. One of the security staff members, what were they called? Just security? She was sure they had an actual designation but it was slipping her mind–
"Oh, hello sir," Flurry began, stepping forward. She must've by now realized herself to be the more appropriate choice for a conversationalist in the group, much better suited for it than Arco and his dry wit, Graham and her hyperactive topic bouncing, and Duck with her... not talking. The default speaker of the crew, but still the Driver. What an odd thing.
"What are you three walking around for?" He spoke with a fairly deep voice. Puberty must have hit him like a nuke.
Wait, three? One, two... oh.
She stepped out from behind Graham.
The monitor blinked.
"Four."
"We think one of the ponies in our sixth period is skipping class. The teacher told us to find her," Flurry explained, rolling her eyes. Was she doing so because of the one-pony blockade, or because of the mission itself?
Arco opened his mouth to speak, but the guard played his card first.
"Do you know she's skipping? Not like I've heard that excuse a lot, but..."
"Do you know Bluebell, by chance?"
"Oh."
Pfffffffft.
Okay. That was kind of funny.
He nodded further down the hall to his right.
"She's in Mr. Syrup's room. Slipped me a couple bits to keep quiet in case somepony went looking for her, but I don't officially take bribes." He fished around in his brown coat pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag that jingled and jangled as he shook it. "Gonna keep it for evidence."
"Yeah, 'evidence'," Arco started.
"Thank you, sir," Flurry talked over him, giving him a glare all the while. Flicking a hoof about and starting down the hall, she led the three away from the security guard (aha!) and let out a long sigh. "Phew."
"D-did you not know his name?" Duck asked. It was a little weird how Flurry only addressed him as 'sir', even if it was polite.
"Only the cool kids and underage fillies are friends with the security guards," Flurry replied, blowing a raspberry.
Arco flicked his head at Duck. "Because they think they can get away with stuff easier."
Graham smiled brightly. "What they don't know is that, when their stuff gets taken, the office staff gets first-pick on what they can keep! I have sooooo many flashlights and batteries!"
Wasn't that... super illegal? Like, not even slightly, but, like, a lot?
"Ever think about selling them back to their owners?" Arco sniggered.
Graham looked like she'd about had a heart attack. "Guh...! No! They're mine!"
Flurry shook her head, her perfect mane shimmying to and fro. "You could start an empire with that. Selling kids their snatched-up items."
"I don't think you know how much of an opportunity you have here."
Graham harumphed. "As Busy Body would say, that would be the worst trade deal in the history of trade deals, maybe ever."
"Are we ever gonna find out what's wrong with that crew–"
A door on their upcoming left past another row of lockers slowly cracked open, bringing with it a pair of ponies—one clutching a reddening tissue over her muzzle and the other helping her along—and a colossal amount of rambunctious, uproarious noise that sounded like it belonged over in Bitaly's Coliseum when that whole thing was up and running. And considering the state the country was in after the Never War, it... honestly might still be up and running to decide what government they'd be forming next.
"You got her!"
"Nice shot!"
"Zacherle's sake, Apple Juice, you clocked her upside the head!"
A much more mature voice—clearly the teacher's—spoke up, silencing the class, "And with that, it looks like we'll be watching a movie this period!"
"Yaaaay!"
"Wewwww!"
"Yeah!"
"Awesome!"
CA-THUMP.
Duck had stopped already as soon as the door had opened, but her three friends decided they'd take her usual course of action this time around.
"That's not Mr. Syrup's room is–"
"Yup," Flurry cut Graham off.
"What class is it even right now?"
Flurry looked up and to her left, rubbing her chin with a hoof. "Sixth period last year was his Honors English class... could still be the same. Doubt he'd like change."
They began walking once again, and, standing in front of the door, they lingered for a second.
Duck sucked in a breath, puffing out her cheeks.
Graham popped her shoulders.
Arco cracked his neck ewwww that one was gross!
Flurry sighed.
She brought up a hoof and slightly jiggled the door handle.
And, like a pivot point, the entire door swung open like lightning war, catching Flurry by surprise and flattening her against the wall like a pancake.
At once, it came.
"̪͍̥͙̺̻̭͉̒͛̽̈́ͅH̷͔͔̖̜̙͍̺͆̍̆ͣ͗͗ͨͨ̄e̢̱͈ͭl͈̦̻̖̝̖̇l̥̼̦͛ͣ͒ͩ̊̀̒ͦ͢ ͔̬̠̞̄͋̾̾̈ͨ̇͠y̯͉̘̼̲͕͛̈̒͞e̛̙̹̮̥̥̤̮ͨͮ̆̿̆̀̏ͨ͜͡ä̡̺̼̪̜̺̳̓ͣ̇̀͡h̢̪ͮͮ̑͡ ̺͖̪̑̈͊̾̊̾ͬ͂ͫẁ̵͇̖̰̳̠͛̈͛ͬ̿́e̫̤͖͓̣͊̇͐̃'̵̧̣͎̬̤̦͙̫̀ͥͩ͊ͥ̃̚͟r̨̧͉̹͍̠͈̘ͨ̿e͎͓̘̗̙ͩ̄͛̅̃̇̓͠͠ ͖̼ͩ͋ͨͫ̔̉́̕͠ͅw̸̠͔̓ͮ̐̍ͭ̾̇ͦả̞̬̼̘̓ͧ̿̑̊ͮ̚͜t̶̗͔̫̲̝̤̺̞́͛̎͟͡c̷̢̾͋͗̔̔҉͈̰͇̤͍̯̞ȟ͕̩̯͇̮ͧ̌ỉ̶͓̠̗̬̪͝n̸̯̠͂̄ͬg̵̗͖̳̗͇͔ͦ͗̆̏̽̕ ̰̤̟͛̐ͫ̑̀̉̉̀a̩̣͓ͧͬ̅̓̓ ̲͚̱̟ͬ̿͑͡mͮ̇̎ͤͫ͗͡͏̣̞̞̮̺̙͈̣ő̏͒҉̻͈̖͕͍̳̥̜́̀v̝̯̠͗̐ͦ͂ͦ̕͝í͏̺̥e̫̺̺̤͙̪̗̐̓ͤ̓̑̿̈̈́!͉̼̗̽̃̓͌ͧ̄̄"̂̒͋̇҉̲̻̗̺
̸̐ͣ̽̚҉͔
̛̥̩̯̭̥̗̬͊ͭͥ͐ͣ͒̇̈"̞̻͍̱ͧͭ̓̑ͧ̈̀T̨͎̳̳̜̠͔͆̀̃̈̒͐̌h̵͓̰͇̺ͫ̓ͫ͑͗̑͘ã̸͇̥̪̠͙͖͙̻͖̅̅̓ͪ̃͐̐͡ǹ̴̻͖͔̦̺̖̰̳ͥ͆̃ͭ̉k̩̰̣͇̹̇͑̐ͯ̆͝͞ș̼̣̬͉̥͊̿̀̌̀̍͒̾͜͜͡ ͨͣ͂̃҉̹̼̱̭͜M̢̞̤̹̗͇̎͂̌ͧ̓̊͘r̵̨̬̞̈́.̸̷̮̣̹̱̪͙̄ ̧̘̟̘̼̓ͯ̇͋̏̊̚͘ͅS̢̩̟͖͙̲̠̳͉ͣ̓̉ͯ̂͛́y͈̙͚͕̠̣̠̖̮ͪ̄ṛ̢͔͗̎͌̀̂̚͢u̡͔͖̖͍͓͙̟̫ͭ̓ͥ̑͌̓̄̋͡p̣̤̘̘̖̘̗̗͊͆̋̀́!̙̱̬͕̥̩̫̌͆͂͒̀"̴̞͙͖͕̖̯̀͘
̶̧̹͕̝̿͂̍͊
̂̒͟҉̲͚͕̦̠̻̯"̵̪͙̠͎̖ͩ̓Ö̶̞̣͖̤͙̞̠̭͇́̂̃̾h̍̔ͬ͑͋̐͏͉̻͚̞̳͇̣͚͞ ̧̺̜̙̐ͭͪ̇ͪ̉̇̒̇͘t̵̰̐̿͐͛ͮ́ḩ͓̘̥̱͖ͤ͆͌̓͢a̤͖̬̮̬͎̍̒̋̌͊ͫ͛ͅͅn̸̦̫͈͎̗̲͑͋̀ͨ͗̾̉k̡̨̻̜̜̟̬͇̟̹ͮ̄ͨ̽̎̎ͅ ̷͉͖̞͎͚̺̌̃̽̏̍̑ͬ̈̎̀ţ̢̫͖̔̓̓h̷̘̝̩͖̖ͦ̆ͦ̑͗̓ͨ͜e̛͙̳͕̺̾̽̃͑̕ ̶͉͎̇ͥͦ̅ͯ̋͌̀͡G̸̝̝͇̘̱ͨ͛̄ͩͨ͊ͩ͡o͙͑̋̄ͣͧͪ͗d̲̾̋̽̈̂̃s̶͔̳̝͎̹̥̭͆̉̽ͦ.͎̭̣̳̟̿̎͊ͤͦ̆̾͑.̖͔͍̘͍͔̻̗ͪ"̴̧̯̬̖̊̊̿̉̚
̡̖͍͍͓̞́̉̋̂͛
̽͂̍ͦ҉̰̘̖̮̪͕"̘̝̪͛̓̅̐̏Y̛̞̞̣͗͗̾̊̕͡ę̩̖͎͖͍̣̩̬̋͐͠s͇̥͍̼̜͉͍͉̓͊̈ͯ͌̐!̠̚"̴̨͈̮͎̃͊̀͂̈͑̒̓
̫͋ͫ̌ͬͥͬ̂́
͖̻̺ͤ͊̏ͤ̓ͨ͑ͦ̍́"ͯ̊͑ͩ̑̍͏͏̲͖͖̹͇͔̦̰K̨̜̰͕̣͔̟͎̔̉̚͠ͅi̓ͩ̒́҉̲̟̪͎ͅc̱̣̪͆ͩͭͧ̉͟k͓͙̪̠̐̎ͤ̃͊̅ ͔͕̮̼͔̻̟͍̌ͭͣ̓̈́̀̚͢͞y͙̺̣͔̭̞̗͔̒ͦ͒̊̅ͧ͛ͧ́o̴̓ͥ̃̀͂҉̹̬͓͎ṹ̷̲͈̞͕͔̹̙͉̚͜ͅȑ̫ͥ ̸̖̪̙̬̓ḫ̸̰̗̝̳ͪ͂́̊̆ͣ͘̕ơ̷̯ͩ̿̀ͫͨ̾ó͇̰ͤͭ͗͢v̯͕͚̮̻̉ͪ̓̽ͥ̆́̄͐ę̸̪͍ͥͮ̓ͯ̍̍͐ͬs̸̛͚̙̮̰̮̦̗̯ͨ͊͂͡ ̧̮̐̿̄̀̍͋̀̚͜u̵͔̱ͪ̃p̝̗͈͖͓̆͋̎́̍͂͌,̺̞̐̓͑̃͗̍͟ ̼̩̬͎͙̲̌͆̍̀̍p̣͙̹̳͓̏̓ͮͭͩ̅̆͞ͅo͍͈̱̪̲̟̞̻ͮ̇̿ͨ̕n̩͚̩͖͕̣̣̖̽ͫ͊͘͝ị̶͖̩̣̭̫͐̇ͩ͌̾͊̀è̸̸̢͎̮̥̬̬̲̈ͧ͗ͨ̾̀͌͗s̢̧̛̝̱̥̝̙̾͌́ͫ̏̄̚ͅ!̷̸̘͍̪̣̹̦͑̄̌̃̚"͉̳̜̟̜ͥ́̾ͫ̍
̮͉̞̲̫̬̳̺̉ͨ
̠̣ͯ͌̿͗͌ͤ͐"̢̘̗̝̯ͯ̓ͤ̊̂̕͢R̺̣͇̣̞̰̔̅ͯ͊̈́ͬ͢a̷̠̲͖̝̮̦ͦ̾̔͡c͈͇̱̰̼̤̖̐ͮ͌̋̌̒̊̌ͬ͟ȋ̬̯̳̯͉̥̲̘̱̅ͩͥ͑̆ͧ̂͞s̢͇̩̪̭̦͊̇͌̓͡t̮̻͈̫͖ͬ͢.̠̩͉͕̖̱͚̐̀́̒"̜̙͐͜
̙̦̖̝̜̰̭̘̎̉ͯͪ̌̏ͧ̕
̶͈̝̣̣͉ͧ͐͋͌́͡"̞̲̠̮̻ͣ͆ͩ́ͅĄ̴̭̬̭̳̼̠̲̎̇̓̾̚ͅn̷̨͎̠̥̳͙ͮ̃̇͛̈ͦ͗͡a̢͈͖͔̠͌ͩ̂͆̚r͍̖͙͈͒͌̄ͪc̡̭͓̰̫͙̹̄̿̿̍ͯ̇ͪ̾h̲͍̲͆̓ͨ͐̐̏̔y̸̙̤̙̼͈͋ͤ͝ͅͅ!̖̠͕̬̝ͭ̌̇̈́͊̊͑"͉̦̼̭͕ͯ̿͋͗ͪ̍̎̔̕
From behind the dreaded barricade came a glowing blue light, and Flurry appeared in the blink of an eye, shaking her head and gritting her teeth. She began to say something, but Duck found she couldn't quite hear her at the moment. Or really anything for that matter. Had she missed herself pulling out a long rifle and firing it at some point? One second she'd been able to hear, and the next it was like the very concept of hearing had snatched from her being.
Flurry and the others began taking daring steps forward, and Duck found herself struggling to continue her role of perpetual caboose. Crossing the threshold, they craned their necks around like a four-light stoplight and looked toward the back of the room...
...to find a light-gray pony with her spine to them, screwing around on one of the computers underneath the cabinets hastily labeled Papers, Materials, and Not Porn.
Wait what?!
Flurry's eyes narrowed. Dangerously. Was she able to see right now, or was this the same story as Duck's current deafness?
"There she is."
Oh it was back.
Duck realized she was floating a few inches off the ground, and opened her mouth to scream until she realized Arco and Graham were levitating as well. The effect—which she was trying to get used to—stopped almost as quick as it started, and, through the roaring noise, Flurry simply told them, "Give me a second," as the three of them now stood a few inches back from the door.
"Oh, hi Flurry," came Mr. Syrup's voice.
"Hello, sir."
"Flurry, what oh no."
"Bluebell."
CRASH!
THUMP!
...
STOMP STOMP STOMP!
"Ahh!"
"Get her!"
"Run Bluebell run!"
"Here's my book!"
SKRRIT!
FOOMP!
THUMP CH-CH-CH-CH THUD!
SMASH!
"No!"
"Godsdammit, Bluebell, come on!"
"Ow ow ow, Gods you're, ow!"
"What class?"
"Tankery."
"Ah, thank you, Flurry. I'll be sure to tell Mrs. Red."
"You're welcome, Mr. Syrup."
"Owwwww! Let go of me! Somepony heeeeeelp!"
"Err, dammit, you're stalling the class, Bluebell!"
"Quit fussing!"
"You've lost, Bluebell!"
"See you tomorrow!"
"Tomorrow's Saturday idiot."
Flurry appeared, rear first and then her entire body. She was gritting her teeth, her horn lit, forcefully dragging Bluebell with her magic by the curly, bouncy tail, Bluebell herself gripping each inch of carpet with all her might and screaming at the heavens like she was being taken down to heck itself.
"Somepony help!"
Flurry, realizing she was now in range of the door and in full view of the others, turned to her left and began to exit the classroom, baggage in spiteful tow. "You were fine with us the other day!" She recalled, grunting.
"I wasn't gonna get an F on our first assignment!"
"Your first assignment! Our's was finding the Cruiser!" Flurry turned around, still dragging Bluebell but now walking straight ahead and leading them back toward the front of the school the way they trotted in. "All you did was chuck rocks at bee's nests like an idiot!"
"They were hornets, you idiot!" Bluebell shouted back, her chin bouncing off the threshold of the double doors that were now taking them into the Senior Hall.
Flurry cast an angry glance down Bluebell's way. Duck, Arco, and Graham, following behind the two, looked down as well without a word. "What about at Duck's place?!"
"Free food!"
"And the first match?"
"I had a chance to kick Hail Mary's ass finally!"
"YOU ATE FOOD WITH US YESTERDAY."
"It was free!"
Duck didn't think that anypony realized that Bluebell literally sat next to her in the Comet, and that making the Unicorn angry would probably—no, very definitely—end up terribly.
They passed by the security guard, who simply gave them a nod and a little laugh before disappearing into his office, shutting the door and turning on the light to start avoiding work at a much greater extent.
"Is this because we joked about you?!" Flurry asked, needing to double her effort as Bluebell rotated her body, threw her forelegs upward, and grabbed hold of the garbage oddly chained to the floor. Of course, to no avail, as Bluebell lost her grip and began floundering about like a halibut who didn't like it one bit that she'd been hooked and thrown into a weird boat in the middle of nowhere. "Thought you were built... rah, tougher than that!"
They passed by the Nurse's office. The Nurse didn't even bat an eyelash.
The squeaks of Bluebell's flailing hooves were like the sounds of that one basketball game Duck had accidentally flipped to the other week trying to find the history channel again after Graham sat on the remote once they were finished eating.
"I swear I'll kill you!"
"Is that just the tsundere talking?"
Bluebell, in stark contrast to her name, except the bell part, went beet red.
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"
"We're baaaack!"
Duck stopped once Graham did. Arco next. Flurry, burdened by her newly-added weight, pulled up next to Arco, grit her teeth, did one last hard tug, and finally dropped her influence on Bluebell's tail. The Unicorn's entire rear end thumped hard on the grassy floor.
Her thunderous yells and bloodcurdling screams of terror, depraved insult, and promises of mass murder were put to an abrupt, final end with a grunted, low, admittedly cute, "Ouchie."
Apart from a few wayward, sideways, kooky-eyed glances from the front office, a random teacher trotting down the hallway with a stack of paper easily a foot higher than him almost bumping into them and surely prolonging them, and the front door becoming a bit of an unnecessary hassle, their trip back outside to class had been pretty straight-forward, odd passersby only needing to look at the source of the incessant screaming to return to work. They must have known Bluebell to be a bit of a troublemaker. At least the teachers were aware of the bullies, unlike the Academy.
Even Principal Cheese, all wrinkled smiles and trotting down the second-floor stairs with a cup of steaming coffee in hoof, only smirked and nodded before returning to his office in peace, bidding them an adieu and disappearing behind the corner they'd just hugged.
Now standing just at the bottom of the concrete ramp leading up to the tank garages, Duck, Flurry, Arco, Graham, and the newly-recovered-but-definitely-still-mad-even-as-she-sat-up-on-her-haunches-and-crossed-her-forelegs Bluebell faced the rest of the class, who were all waiting in a slightly huddled-together circle simply staring at them with a mixture of annoyance, concern, anger, and, in the case of Busy Body... was that condescendence? Duck wasn't good at faces. Or ponies. Or talking. Or anything really. Why was she alive again?
Mrs. Red perked up, smiling once more. Duck much rather preferred this version of her Tankery teacher.
"Oh, good! I suppose we can get started, then!"
Bit Rate, who had apparently snatched a bag of chips out of her backpack—orange-colored triangles that left dust on her hooves and around her mouth in a cosmically disgusting fashion—spouted, "We were just talking about crew names."
"Lily's team thought of Hoofball teams," Sweet Tea piped up, stepping forward with a serene smile on her face, eyes shut.
Peanut Brittle rolled her eyes, then shot a glare Busy Body's way. "Miss 'Podium' over here liked the idea of parties, or something. She made us Bull Moose."
Primrose, clicking and clacking on her laptop behind them, spoke up even as Duck couldn't see her. "Pine Needle wanted song names. As if 'Thesaurus' and 'Little Love' are good at all."
Forest Fire adjusted her infinity scarf with a grumble. "I don't like Bit Rate's team calling us 'Noobs'."
They'd thought about team names as well?
Duck had... pondered it the other night before falling asleep, watching the documentary sideways on her couch. Her sister's years had been the Elements', well, Elements, and...
...
...she was thinking about something now.
Mrs. Red straightened up, and the class looked at her. "Before we all get hopelessly further into your little argument..."
"Our idea's still the best," Lily unhelpfully chimed in.
Mrs. Red shut her eyes and sighed. "...I do believe I have a bit of news you'd all probably like to hear."
The class was quiet now.
A transfer, maybe? What their task was for today? Training schedules?
Please don't let it be–
"If you all haven't seen it on the front bulletin this morning as you walked in," (they had a bulletin?) "our first real match as part of the Pre-Championships will be held on this coming Friday!"
Guh!
As if not realizing the harrowing revelation of such news, the rest of the class apart from her own crew—who minded her stunned reaction and remained silent—burst into cheers and began shouting excitedly.
"We'll kick their asses!"
"Let us at 'em, Miss Red!"
"We can do it, guys!"
Mrs. Red, presumably content with their gung-ho attitudes as she nodded to—seemingly—herself, back-tracked, "I suppose that that brings us back to our previous discussion of team names. We can't—no, we won't—fare well without the coordination that comes with team names. One of the easiest things you can do in a Tank Match is get confused."
"Teams!"
"Parties!"
"Phrases!"
"Songs!"
Mrs. Red brought up a hoof, quieting them. Gods, was her magic part of becoming a teacher? If Duck became a professor, would people suddenly start listening to her, too?
"Why don't we hear from our team's Overall, everypony? I'm sure she has some semblance of an idea."
Grumbles from a few.
This wasn't going to be pretty.
All eyes, if they weren't doing so already, turned to look right at Duck. Normally, she would have stared at the ground and probably vomited on the spot, but, feeling her friends' presence behind her, she flexed her chin, worked her jaw around, and bunched up her shoulders. She'd been kicking an idea around, and, if she could find it at the moment deep within the cobwebs, she... ah, there we go.
"Um..." she began, then shook her head and increased her volume... which was about one up on her television, for a comparison, "...I was thinking. Our, um, our current names are..." Oh Gods she hoped they wouldn't hate her. "...boring?" They blinked. So far so good. "A, B, C, and D are very easy to confuse between each other. If we all had something like a name to remember, it would be a lot simpler to know who's who and be able to instruct each other on formations and s-such."
Lily cocked her head. "So?"
Duck made a noise, but it was drowned out as Arco, Flurry, Graham, and even Bluebell stepped forward, eyes narrowed. Lily shrank back, but kept her raised eyebrow and crossed forelegs as she sat on the ground with her team.
"Th-the last Tankery team at this school used the Elements of Harmony for their tanks' designations. I was thinking of doing something similar, b-but with the historical figures... th-they portrayed for the Hearth's Warming festival a long while ago. That w-way we pay respect to both the Elements and the founders of the... country."
Mrs. Red raised an eyebrow, rubbing her chin with a hoof interestedly.
Most of the class followed suit.
The Candidates, who must have known what the idea entailed, scoffed as one unit.
Duck cleared her throat. She pressed a hoof against her jacketed chest. "My team will be Cookie Team, after Secretary Smart Cookie of the Earth Pony clan."
She looked over at Bit Rate, Primrose, Autumn Leaves, and Plastic Beach. "Your crew will be Puddinghead Team, after Chancellor Puddinghead, leader of the Earth Pony clan." The Nerds, slightly begrudging the name, shrugged their shoulders and began to murmur to one another.
Oh Gods Duck why did you think this was a good idea get out of her hide go stuff yourself in a locker get home crawl in your bed just go just–
She stopped at once, feeling an unusual warmth clenching down on her.
A hoof was on her shoulder.
Caught in a gasp at the contact, she slowly looked over to the source to find Graham giving her a wide grin that was almost blinding in nature. Her crazy light-gray and black mane positively glowed in the sunshine that was now dead-set on sweating her dry.
"You're doing great, Duck!" She affirmed her in a slightly hushed tone.
Duck blushed, then nodded and looked back, clearing her throat.
"Lily's team–" She began again, pointing at Lily Pad, Hail Mary, Field Goal, Peanut Brittle, and Whipgrass, who perked up and fluffed their jersies, "–will be Hurricane Team, after the leader of the Pegasi, Commander Hurricane." At that, they threw up their hooves and began making gorilla noises. She had made very, absolutely sure to give them a name they'd all find no conflict with. They might have ganged up on her after class and... shoved her in a locker or something, or tie her up in the woods and leave her there until the morning.
Duck pointed at Pine Needle, Sweet Tea, Candle Light, and Vanilla Pudding. Gods why didn't she make them Puddinghead because of– "You will be Pansy Team."
Almost immediately, Pine threw a foreleg like a whip in front of her, crossing her forelegs with Vanilla and Sweet Tea, glaring. "Pansy? Go to hell, please." Duck started. "Like we'd call ourselves something as stupid as that."
"Hold your tongue!"
Pine flinched, teeth grit, and turned to face the rather furious-looking Candle Light next to her.
"Private Pansy, under the bitter Commander Hurricane, formed the first three-race friendship in Equestria's history, saving the country before it even started!" Growling under her breath as she wound down, she stuck out a hoof and shot it straight up to the three flags waving over the tank garages, namely the old Pegasi banner. "Apologize to the Pegasi!"
Pine, Sweet, and Vanilla all gave each other quick seconds glances before, realizing they were at a disadvantage, turned heel, faced the flag, and bowed courteously. Together, as if they'd rehearsed it, they stammered, "O-oculus tempestasis!"
Duck, giggling to herself and silently thanking the more well-versed Candle, swallowed a lump down her throat and cast her sights Candidate way. "That leaves you three as Platinum Team."
Busy Body grinned to herself, placing a hoof gingerly on her collar. "Of course. Nothing but the top grade."
Blank Check hummed. "Never any doubt."
Forest Fire struck a pose that looked flaccid in every shape, form, and fashion. "The best."
Mrs. Red, nodding vigorously to the point she could've dislodged her whole head from her body, began to trot forward, cheeks bunched up like a bundle of twigs. "That's perfect, Duck! And with that settled and out of the way, as I assume none of you have any objections to it..." she looked across the faces of the class and, apart from a few frowns—mostly from the Nerds—found no discernible issues, "...we still have quite a few things to practice until our first match." Straightening her posture and puffing out her chest, Mrs. Red brought up both her forelegs and clapped her hooves together. "Everypony, hop into your tanks please!"
With a torrent of "yes ma'ams" and "let's gos", the rest of the class turned tail and sprinted toward their respective vehicles, taking their assigned positions and beginning work on whatever needed to be done. Arco, Flurry, Graham, and Bluebell disappeared from her side, but she could feel their long gaze behind her head and knew they were probably waiting for her to join them before getting started themselves. She shook her head. A public match in little less than a week? They weren't ready to play yet at all. There were still so many things—so many little issues and problems and habits—that needed to be ironed out and broken. If they couldn't work together efficiently, they wouldn't last long in a real battle, and the hope for this year's Ponyville Horsepowers could be over by the first week of Tank Warudo's burning embers.
Duck, mumbling things to herself as she simply remained standing where she had been for the past few minutes, didn't realize—or honestly remember—Mrs. Red's still hovering presence until the older mare tilted her head and asked, "Duck?"
Duck snapped out of her musings. "Uh, yes ma'am?"
"Are you having reservations about our match next week?"
Well, she couldn't really lie to the teacher, now, could she? Trust was the only thing that made or broke a team, no matter the sport or goal. Clearing her throat and ignoring how dry it had become, she replied honestly, "I just don't think we're quite ready for an actual match so soon from now." She waited for Mrs. Red to take her turn, but realized her mouth was still open, so she stuttered, "I-I know we've been at it for weeks, but... there are still so many things we need to look at before then."
Mrs. Red sighed. "If I could, I'd postpone it as well, but this year's Tank Warudo is on a strict schedule. I'm sorry, Duck."
Duck looked at the ground, but found a thought bubbling up in her head. Deciding that it was a good idea to find the answer to it, she perked up once more and asked, "Who are we going to be up against, ma'am?"
Mrs. Red tapped her chin. "The... Baltimare Galleons, if I remember correctly. We'll be heading over there early on Friday to set up and have our Meet And Greet, and the match will start right around noon-ish." She raised an eyebrow. "I do hope none of you have any important classes you need to tend to that day, haha."
Oh Gods she did.
Winding down, Mrs. Red shook her head, "Aaaah, I still find that so... I dunno, clumsy. Miss tests, and quizzes, and schoolwork for an entire day to go blow up tanks. I might enjoy the sport, but forsaking academic pursuits for it from time to time seems a little sabotaging, don't you think?"
Duck rubbed one of her forelegs. "At, um, at the Academy, our focus was mostly on Tankery anyway. I hadn't thought about skipping an entire day of school for it..."
"Where did you five disappear to yesterday anyway? I'd been wanting you to show the class about shell types so they could better understand it, coming from one of their own peers instead of a teacher. You might not think that they listen to you as it is right now, but try having me talk to them in a normal voice. And I don't like getting mad like I did earlier, so they'll probably never fully listen to me."
"Arco's m-mother was in the hospital, so we went to visit her."
Mrs. Red pursed her lips, tilting her head. "Aww, that's sweet of you. I guess there's no real problem with that, then. If you five had... I dunno, gone off to go eat at a restaurant or something in the middle of the day, I might have been a little more upset." She looked down at Duck, not noticing the sweat threatening to pour relentlessly down her face. "It's good that you did that. I didn't know Arco's family was having troubles."
Duck, noticing one of her buttons was lopsided, began to fiddle with it.
"Speaking of family..."
She sucked in a breath so quickly it sounded like a hiccup.
"...how has your sister been, Duck? It's been awhile since she was last enrolled here."
"She's... doing fine. College and all that."
Mrs. Red nodded. "I keep being surprised that you're attending Ponyville High in the first place, seeing as your mother so adamantly owns the Ponyville Tankery Academy on the other side of town. I'd think she'd do everything in her power to keep you there, at least until you graduated."
"It was actually my doing, ma'am."
"Oh?"
She cleared her throat. "For my sixteenth birthday gift, I asked my mother if I could attend public school for once. She thought it would be good to help me t-talk to more ponies, but I mostly wanted it so I could... avoid having to do anything with tanks... which I guess you can see didn't really work out."
"Well, that was very nice of your mother, all things considered. I'm glad she decided to let you do so." In lieu of a birthday cake, it was... well, she had to admit it wasn't a terrible trade. She may have been forced to join Tankery, but she'd still met her friends, and that was a good enough present for her.
Duck noticed that Mrs. Red was looking hard at her, and instinctively eeped and collapsed her ears over her head.
"Duck, I think it's important to remember that, no matter what anypony says about your sister and your mother—all the reminders, and the bringing-up of losses, and the lies, and hatred—they will both always be known for their bravery against Griffontstone in the face of incredible danger. Pumpkin Bread's one-on-one with the dreaded Wittman, and Pumpkin Seed's final stand that changed Tankery forever."
"Hey, Duck!"
Duck about-faced, neck craning around. She spotted Flurry, Arco, Graham, and Bluebell looking her way. Flurry was waving a hoof, with the other next to the left side of her face. She took the first and began to fling it behind her head, as if spilling rainwater away.
"Come on, Duck! We've got stuff t' do!"
Duck looked back. Mrs. Red was humming, a smirk on her face.
"Looks like they're all rearing to start."
At that, on cue, the SOMUA's V8 roared to life.
Nodding, Duck sat up and began to trot toward the Comet.
"You know, there ought to be another one of those."
Duck stopped and turned, brow raised.
Mrs. Red, arms crossed, bobbed her head to and fro. "What will Duck Bill stand tall against?"
Duck knew that Mrs. Red was meaning to be inspiring with her words... but she had pretty much just asked her what she thought she'd be defeated by this year. Not wishing to upset the teacher, she let out a half-hearted giggle, gave one final, curt nod, finished fiddling with her jacket, and met up with her crew to begin training for the day.
One week.
One. Week.