This could be a very bad decision. But Lightning feels like this is right. Fiddlesticks isn’t sure, but she trusts Lightning’s gut. With a nervous nod, Lightning Dust slowly takes to the sky.
She’s spotted almost immediately.
The other two point their guns at her, but Lightning keeps her hooves above her head. She holds her breath and calls out a name: Spitfire. The two ponies freeze.
Eventually, they lower their guns and approach suspiciously. Lightning focuses her attention on the orange pegasus, seeing her battle-scarred body and an eye-patch over her right eye. She looks like she’s been through hell, but it’s still her. Spitfire.
Her captain smiles and punches Lightning in the shoulder. She thought she was dead. Lightning thought the same. Soarin looks a bit worse for wear too, but he still has the same goofy smile she remembers him having.
They land near the entrance of the convention center, where Midnight and Fiddlesticks rejoin them. They exchange hugs and shoulder punches before Lightning asks what happens to them.
Spitfire sighs. That night was a hard one. A lot of ‘Bolts died to the Fourth Division ambush. Lost her eye to shrapnel, too. But somehow, they survived. They stayed in the quarantine zone, smuggling out as many ponies as they could.
They’ve spent the last few months tracking down the rogue guards and putting them down. Soarin’ frowns at that. It’s been a hard fight, but they’ve been getting by.
Midnight asks why they’ve come to the convention center.
Spitfire says that some of the civilians have heard transmissions on their radios. They came here to try and recover some radio equipment. Her face hardens. Apparently, something is going on in Canterlot.
That statement raises everyone’s eyebrows. Fiddle asks what the transmission says. Soarin’ replies that it’s a message recalling all surviving military personnel to the city.
Lightning wonders if the Princesses have come back. Midnight rolls her eyes. The Princesses are dead.
Fiddle disagrees. She thinks they’re still alive somewhere, searching for a cure.
Spitfire shrugs. It doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that somepony in Canterlot needs their help. So they’re going to go there. Her eyes light up and she extends a hoof to Midnight and Lightning. Some of the team’s still alive. Do they want to come?
Lightning suddenly feels a strange pang in her heart. Seeing Spitfire’s awakened a strange sense of duty in her, one that’s been asleep for a long time. But she glances at Fiddle and frowns. They’d be flying, most likely, and Fiddle would probably slow them down.
She looks around the city, at the wreckage and debris of Manehattan. She hates it here, and she’s long dreamt of leaving for somewhere better. But… would Canterlot be any better? Or would it just be another twisted playground of rust and metal?
Midnight nods and shakes Spitfire’s hoof. She’s going. All eyes fall to Lightning. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her mind’s made up.