//------------------------------//
// Burdens of Authority 
// Story: The Chains of Command 
// by Kaipony 
//------------------------------//

A shrill whistle cut through the chorus of shouting and frenzied activity that sprawled across the western edge of the School of Friendship's athletic field. Looping around for over a quarter of a mile, a class of students was strung out across various portions of a series of walls, ropes, barrels, hurdles, and other obstacles. None were even to the halfway point in the course when they all heaved to a stop at the whistle's command. A squat hedgehog in a gray tracksuit blew his whistle again before letting it fall from his lips and shouting, "Time's up!" His breath puffed into barely visible vapor as he waved his arms, beckoning the students over. "Everyone bring it in!"

Unable to offer more than a collective groan of acceptance, the gaggle of students scrambled over and collapsed into a leaning heap against one another. A small cloud of vapor condensed around the panting group of students as they struggled to catch their collective breath. Pacing in front of them, clad in a black and white striped jersey, a maroon unicorn mare eyed each of her charges as she passed, carefully inspecting their composure and outward condition.

"That'll be enough for today," Fizzlepop announced. A weak cheer rose up from a few of the students. "I'm going to skip the usual debrief because I think you all understand what you're doing wrong and what needs to happen when you tackle the course again next week. Don't worry. I'm going to give you time to recover before you get to try again. Now go get washed up and on to your next class."

Without complaint or further comment, the students shuffled off toward the safety and sanitation of the gym. Many panted heavily during the walk back while the others stretched various sore muscles and ligaments. Fizzlepop kept a keen eye on each of them, watching for signs of severe fatigue or injury, as she held out her hoof to Grubber expectantly. 

Grubber passed a clipboard full of notes on student performance to her with a sheepish grin. The mare's face remained impassive as she scanned the caricatures, doodles, and scant few actual entries near each student's name. Her lips pressed into a thin line upon reading the words "It's cold" under a section titled General Observations.

"Sorry," Grubber said, chuckling nervously when he saw the look in Fizzlepop's eyes. "I got kinda distracted." He exhaled through his nose and swatted at the vapor cloud.

Shaking her head, Fizzlepop sighed. "Your own lack of performance aside, that could have gone better." She swept a hoof over the obstacle course that lay before them.

"It also could have been worse," Grubber commented. "You can't expect any of them to make it on their first try. I mean, wasn't that the point? None of them could have made it through without getting help from each other, let alone on the first try."

Fizzlepop sighed, pinching the bridge of her snout. She motioned for Grubber to follow and started back toward their office in the gym. "You and I understand the purpose of the exercise, but I'm not as sure that all of the students do." She flipped through some of her older notes and grimaced. "As a whole, they work well together, at least within their own circles of friends. And they work well among their own kind. But once they begin to struggle, they often revert back to looking out mostly for themselves instead of the group."

Grubber nodded sagely but then pursed his lips. "They're still just kids, Boss. Remember your first semester and the problems with your, um... style of teaching?"

"You're right on that account, but that’s no excuse for them to slack off," Fizzlepop countered. "I'm trying to temper my expectations, but sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who is pushing them to excel." By this time, they had entered the gym and reached Fizzlepop's office. It was a small room that had once been an equipment storage shed, but the two of them had transformed it into a functional and somewhat cozy workspace. 

Grubber was the first to notice a small yellow slip of paper stuck to Fizzlepop's desk. "Hey, check this out. Looks like a staff note."

Fizzlepop frowned. "Let me see that."

Grubber handed the paper over to her. "What's it say?" he asked impatiently.

Fizzlepop read the words on the slip of paper. Her eyes widened and she backtracked to the beginning of the note, rereading it. Groaning, she then crumpled the message, threw it into the trash, and kicked out at one of her file drawers, muttering darkly under her breath. It sprang open, and she began to pick through its contents.

"Help me gather the student profiles from the past year. And make a pot of coffee. Strong. I'm going to need all the ammunition I can get."

"What's up?" the hedgehog asked timidly.

Fizzlepop cracked a stiff joint in her neck and growled. "The parents are coming."


~~*~~


Dark liquid burned a bitter, invigorating trail across Fizzlepop's tongue and seared a path down her throat, settling in her stomach like a bank of embers. With a sigh of contentment, the mare took another draught of coffee and let the heavy scent from her mug tickle her nostrils. Heavy, smoky notes with a hint of nutmeg danced around her tongue and persisted even after being swallowed. Drawing a hoof across the words Buck Your Sensitivity printed on the mug, she smiled, wholly enveloped in a haze of roasted aromas and earthy flavors. The perpetually tense hairs in her mane relaxed, and she let them droop down across her head in a limp cascade of rosy color. The warmth from her belly spread its comforting tendrils throughout her barrel and chest, trickling down to her legs as she reclined in her chair. And then, her office door swung open.

Fizzlepop and her mane jolted into a standing position. She set her cup aside as a pair of ponies, a mare and stallion, marched inside without knocking. The long-legged earth pony stallion, his coat a grassy green and sporting a wavy mane, surveyed the room with haughty eyes. At his side stood a pudgy earth pony mare who took a moment to smooth out a ruffle in her flaxen coat and primp her short, curly mane.

"Good afternoon," Fizzlepop greeted. "You must be Mr. and Mrs. Nettle." She extended her hoof. "I'm Fizzlepop Berrytwist."

The stallion shook the proffered hoof and glanced about the office. He took note of the large brown and gold container sitting near the steaming cup on Fizzlepop's desk, and his gaze settled harshly on the words Yubuck Coffee printed across its label before flicking to the words on her cup. "Coffee?" he scoffed, his eyes meeting Fizzlepop's own. "I hope you're not exposing our Pinecone to that stuff."

Fizzlepop did not have time to answer before the mare, acutely alarmed at the notion of her child being subjected to the beverage, asked, "Doesn't that stuff stunt a child's growth? My little Pinecone can't be around anything that might hinder his development."

Standing almost a full head taller than the couple, Fizzlepop rolled her eyes. "You don’t have to worry about me making your son drink coffee. Of that, you have my assurance." She gestured to the pair of chairs in front of her desk. "Why don't we have a seat."

"Is this your whole office?" Mrs. Nettle asked once everypony was seated, seeming to take measurements of the small workspace.

"It’s not much, but it serves its purpose," Fizzlepop replied, retrieving a thin manila folder from a drawer. She shut the drawer with just enough force to rattle her coffee cup. "Most of my budget goes toward new athletic gear, fitness programs, and outdoor field trips." She took a seat at the table. "I don't spend too much time here, anyway. Most of my work is done outdoors."

"Minimalists," Mr. Nettle grumbled, eyeing the quarters with distaste. "Seems to be a running theme around here when it comes to quality extracurricular activities."

Fizzlepop frowned, and she cleared her throat, forcing the rising retort back down into her gut. She flipped through her dossier of Pinecone's performance and attendance. "Your son is doing well. He is achieving standard marks and working well at a pace that is average among the other students. You'll be pleased to hear that tardiness has not been an issue. Occasional coaxing has been necessary to get him past some reluctance to perform above the minimum standard, but it's nothing excessive or out of the ordinary for colts of his age group."

"Average?" Mrs. Nettled gasped.

"Ordinary?" Mr. Nettle scoffed.

Fizzlepop ground her teeth as she watched the couple exchange a frustrated glance, and she reached again for her coffee mug.

"Miss Berrytwist," Mrs. Nettle began, "you seem to be under the misguided notion that our Piney is somehow not special."

"I'm not sure I follow," Fizzlepop grunted after taking a long swallow from her mug, making no effort to conceal its slogan.

"I thought as much, given your unfortunate mischaracterization of our son. Pinecone is going to do great things after he graduates. He's special and already has the qualities necessary to make him a runaway success." Mrs. Nettle grinned smugly.

"We're concerned that he's being held back from rising to his full potential," Mr. Nettle added.

"Elaborate," Fizzlepop deadpanned, steepling her hooves.

The stallion tilted his chin up to look down his snout. "You're not challenging him enough by keeping him from leadership positions. You're not giving him enough opportunities to shine."

"Mr. Nettle," Fizzlepop began, "every student in every class I teach has an equal chance to practice their skills and reinforce good habits. No student falls through the cracks. Not in my program." She indicated the file drawers full of dossiers. "Successes are rewarded. Failures are dissected and reviewed so they can be mitigated in the future."

"‘Failures?’ " Mrs. Nettle gasped. "Our son does not fail. He simply chooses non-traditional paths, ones that somepony too stiffly invested in practices learned in someplace as brutish as the Storm King's army could never appreciate."

Fizzlepop felt her lips curl back, and her teeth begin to show in what was rapidly turning into a feral sneer. She bit her tongue until the moment of anger passed and cleared her throat before speaking. "How else would you describe when a student does not achieve a class objective other than a failure?" she icily said.

Mrs. Nettle sprang from her chair. "If you've hurt our Piney's feelings by calling him a—"

An orchid hoof sliced through the air in a chopping motion, and Mrs. Nettle froze in mid-sentence. "Mr. and Mrs. Nettle, we can argue about semantics and their impact, or lack of impact given correct upbringing, on students all day. I keep detailed profiles of all of my students. Their strengths, weaknesses, and overall performance," she listed. "Attendance, willingness to work in a team, future potential." Fizzlepop leaned back in her chair. 

"Pinecone is not failing my class. He is meeting my standard, but he has plateaued. He seems to suffer from a general lack of direction and occasional inattention, but neither is uncommon at his age. I have no real issue with his performance or behavior, but I believe he could use some additional guidance at home between semesters. Discipline, for starters. I fear he may have had too many things given to him without having to earn anything. Facing a little adversity now and again outside of one of my classes might give him the push to begin moving up in the students' ranks."

Mr. and Mrs. Nettle stared at Fizzlepop with mouths agape for several moments. "I... I can't believe what I'm... oh!" Mrs. Nettle sputtered when she found her voice. "Our son is not one of your brutes from the army to be categorized and belittled, and we'll not have you insult our parenting methods, either."

Fizzlepop rubbed her temples. "If you were offended by what I said—"

"No," Mr. Nettle huffed. "We are through here. Good day, Miss Berrytwist." He ushered his wife out of the room and slammed the door behind him hard enough to rattle the hinges.

In one smooth motion, Fizzlepop swiped her coffee mug from her desk and drained the remaining liquid in two gulps. The hot, bitter dregs seared a trail down her throat, and she gritted her teeth until the heat settled in her stomach. Then she tossed the mug into a corner and listened to it clatter into a corner. Growling to herself, Fizzlepop stared at the door, imagining all the things she used to do to those that insulted her abilities. Finally, she sighed and leaned back in her desk chair.

"Why is it that fighting ponies was always so much easier than having to talk to them?"


~~*~~


The combined faculty lounge and lunchroom was a modest affair. It was a roughly square room with half a dozen tables able to accommodate four or five occupants each, shelf and storage space for small appliances, and a nook that housed a pair of sofas and plush chairs that looked out over the school courtyard. Even at half capacity, the room would have felt cozy, but at the moment, there seemed to be an invisible wall that bisected the room. On one side were various rookie staff and new hires. On the other side of the divide, sitting alone at a table, was Fizzlepop.

On the table in front of her rested a large tureen of ice cream concealed by a dizzying mound of sugary toppings. Fizzlepop stared at the small mountain of sweets, her eyes occasionally flicking to the untouched spoon that sat next to her bowl. The sound of approaching hoofsteps pulled her attention away from the slowly melting mass, and she looked up to find Starlight Glimmer inspecting her and her dessert with an amused smirk.

"Judging by the size of that bowl," Starlight began, eyeing the mountain of sweets, "I'd say you just met Pinecone’s parents. Charming pair, don’t you think?"

"Pinkie Pie once told me this would make me feel better," Fizzlepop explained, eyeing the bowl doubtfully.

"It may not be good for the body," Starlight intoned sagely, "but it sure is good for the soul." She slid into the chair opposite from Fizzlepop. "Go on and spill it. Pinkie doesn't recommend her Six Scoop Sad Pony Sundae Surprise unless there's a good reason."

Fizzlepop picked up her spoon and scooped a small bit of ice cream into her mouth. She let the cream and sugar roil around on her tongue and swallowed before answering. "No one warned me that meeting with parents would be like having to explain a failed mission to the Storm King."

Starlight plucked one of the dozen cherries from the top of the sundae and munched on it thoughtfully. "Getting the Nettles for your first parent-teacher meeting is like tossing a foal into the deep end of a pool. Twilight must have thought you could handle them if she placed them at the head of your schedule."

"I take it that they’re a famous pair?"

"Infamous is a better term," Starlight corrected. "Thankfully, Pinecone doesn't seem to have inherited any of his parents’ more prickly qualities." She twirled the cherry stem around with her magic. "They're good parents, just lousy with tact and too free with their criticisms."

Fizzlepop snorted. "I guess I can relate to that point."

"Prickly comments aside, how did your other meetings go?"

Spooning another bite of ice cream into her mouth, Fizzlepop stalled until she had swallowed. "I've heard more reasonable complaints from recruits digging latrines. Many parents think their kid is the star's gift to Equestria. If there's a problem, it must be with the teacher and never their own child or parenting." She set the spoon aside. "My reputation isn't helping either. A couple of the families can look past what I did to see what I'm doing, but many of them can't see anyone except who I once was." Fizzlepop glanced around the room. "Same goes for the new staff, too. I would have thought that everyone that was brought onboard over the summer would have been briefed that I am a more permanent part of the team now."

"You're on the faculty roster for everyone to see," Starlight commented. "No one thought to add you as a specific warning." She turned and glanced around the room. "But I see what you mean. Seems like most of our new hires still think of you as—"

"Yeah," Fizzlepop interrupted. Her ears folded back against her head, and she fidgeted in her chair.

"I'm sorry."

Fizzlepop shook her head. "Don't be. I had my hopes, but I knew that this was going to happen."

Starlight perked up. "If it helps, Trixie helped us defeat the changelings the second time they attacked, and many ponies still don't care for her much." She offered a Cheshire grin and was rewarded by a snorted laugh from her friend.

"I don't know if that's supposed to make me feel better or not."

"Think about it, Fizzy," Starlight continued. "Who outside of the school grounds, the Princesses, and your hometown understands what you've been through, or how you've changed?"

"Please stop making good points," Fizzlepop groaned. Her attention wandered to one of the windows that looked over the school grounds. "In hindsight, my new obstacle course might not be helping with my image, either." She pushed the melting bowl of ice cream away from her.

"What's it going to take? Am I going to have to put posters up everywhere with a list of all that I have done to atone for my mistakes with 'Fizzlepop's Great Apology Tour' plastered across the front? I already kind of did that after leaving Ponyville."

"Maybe you and Trixie should talk that one through. A 'great apology tour' sounds like something she could dig her hooves into, provided she gets to headline all the banners."

Fizzlepop eyed her friend with good-natured suspicion. "You want Trixie and I spend time together. On purpose. Are you trying to set me up to violate the school's no violence policy?"

Starlight chuckled. "Only a suggestion." She turned around in her chair and waved. "Speaking of Trixie..."

Fizzlepop's eyes snapped up to the lunchroom door as a powder blue unicorn mare waltzed over the threshold. "Oh, goodie." Trixie noticed Starlight and moved with purpose in her direction, cutting off a pair of staff trying to exit as she approached.

"Starlight," Trixie called out. "There you are." She marched right up to Starlight, a grin on her face, and tapped her hooves together. "Listen, Trixie has the greatest and most amazing—" She paused, her smile faltering for a moment when she noticed the other occupant at the table. "Oh, hello, Miss Berrytwist. Can Trixie assume that you're here because you're trying to join the team?"

Fizzlepop's tail swished, and she tilted her head. "Team?" 

"Oh, not this again," Starlight groaned, dropping her head into her hooves.

"Yes!" Trixie announced with a flourish of her hat and cape. "The Great and Powerful Trixie's League of Extraordinary Reformed Ponies."

"The what?" Fizzlepop deadpanned.

"The L.E.R.P. A magnificently brilliant group of only the greatest and most worthy former 'villains' ever assembled." Trixie took a seat next to Starlight and smugly grinned. "It's a rebranding. So far, it's just the two of us."

"Aren't you forgetting someone rather important?" a deep, silky voice said.

Trixie tapped her chin. "Well, Trixie supposes she could take that under consideration." She looked Fizzlepop up and down with appraising eyes. "But there is an application form."

Fizzlepop's eyes locked onto something that was clinging to Trixie's hat. "Um, that wasn't me."

Trixie's own gaze followed Fizzlepop's, where they met a mismatched pair of red and yellow eyes that glared disapprovingly at all seated at the table. "Gah!" she cried and tossed her hat onto the table. From its interior, the snaggletoothed visage of a draconequus pouted.

"Frankly," Discord huffed, "after all we've been through together, the very notion that you'd fail to include moi in your little ensemble is insulting." A miniature version of Discord, this one with a sickly green hue and sporting a large pair of metal bolts sticking out from either side of its neck, clambered over the rim of Trixie's hat. He jumped down onto the table and shook his lion's paw in the air at Trixie with vehemence.

"Rrrr," the miniature moaned and then gestured emphatically. "Rrrr!" 

"And Frank here," the larger Discord continued, "as you can see, does not like to be insulted."

"Get out of Trixie's hat," the unicorn demanded. "Can't you act like an ordinary... creature for just one day?"

"What is ordinary except the average pony's way of trying to define those of us who are..." He paused and cast a sly glance at Fizzlepop. "Extraordinary." He snapped his griffin talon, and Frank vanished with a burst of green sparks.

"You must be Discord," Fizzlepop said.

Discord pulled himself out of Trixie's hat and, standing on the table, bowed to Fizzlepop. "If I must be, then I can't think of a better me to be. Then again, why should I be who everyone thinks I should, hmm?" He grinned, and everyone at the table leaned away. "Have you ever considered that your life might be more interesting as, oh say..." He snapped his talons. "Swizzlefizz?" 

Fizzlepop felt an odd sensation along her scalp and neck. She looked over to see Starlight and Trixie repressing a fit of giggles and heard several staff members in other parts of the cafeteria snicker. Fizzlepop reached up and froze. 

"Turn me back," Fizzlepop growled in warning.

Donning a general's cap and brandishing a baton pulled from his beard, Discord paced along the table's surface. "But you said yourself that all anyone sees is Commander Tempest, leader of the Storm's King's legions. No one will be thinking that with your new style." He paused and produced a hand mirror from beneath one of his wings and held it up for Fizzlepop to inspect his handiwork. Her rose-colored mohawk had been replaced by a spiraling beehive cut of layered colors that put a rainbow to shame.

"Turn me back," Fizzlepop growled again. Sparks ignited from her horn, and a few landed on the tabletop, singeing the wood. "Now."

"Oh, pish-posh," Discord grumbled. "You haven't even taken your new doo out for a spin." A flick of his wrist created a spinning pinwheel where Fizzlepop's horn would have been. The unicorn's eyes began to flash with barely contained ire, and a tiny wisp of smoke wafted from the rotating plastic blades. Discord did not seem to notice. Turning the mirror to himself, Discord's reflection asked, "Why is it that everypony's self-image is always so wrapped up in what others think about them?"

"Tough talk from the guy who reformed because Fluttershy batted her eyes at him," Trixie goaded.

Discord crossed his arms and looked away dismissively. "I simply decided that the life I wanted wasn't compatible with some of my old ways." Meanwhile, Fizzlepop's pinwheel horn simmered under increasingly dense wisps of smoke, and the plastic stick was beginning to soften and droop.

"Come on, Discord," Starlight chuckled nervously, glancing from Fizzlepop's pinwheel horn to the draconequus. "Stop picking on the new girl."

Discord sighed, and his shoulders slumped. "Very well, but only on one condition." He vanished and reappeared, now in a dashingly svelte suit and cape of black material, in the seat across from Trixie. He twirled an outlandishly long mustache around his lion's paw. "I want to be recognized for my contributions to Equestria by being invited into this little club of misfits."

"Misfits?!" Trixie bristled. "How—grr. Impossible." She shook her head. "It's the Great and Powerful Trixie's League of Extraordinary Reformed Ponies." She pointed an accusing hoof at his un-ponylike features, smirking. "You don't qualify."

"Speciesism? In this day and time? How unprogressive of you," Discord accused. He pulled on his mustache for a moment, yanking it off. "I know! How about a compromise? If we change the name from that self-absorbed earsore, then everyone is happy. How about the Dashingly Infamous and Spectacular Cohort of Obviously Reformed Denizens?"

There was stunned silence at the table until Fizzlepop said through clenched teeth, "That just spells out Discord."

“Even better!” Discord exclaimed. “And you’ll be pleased to know I’ve already got the t-shirts for each of us,” he said, pulling a tower of shirts out from behind his back. When he dropped them on the table, he stroked his beard pensively. “Though I’m not sure there’s a size large enough for our great and powerful showboat's head.” 

Before Trixie could do something regrettable with one of the plastic utensils Fizzlepop happened to slide in her direction, Starlight loudly cleared her throat.

"Ahem," Starlight interjected. "Get with the snapping and making Fizzy normal again, and I'm sure Trixie will let you into her secret club."

Trixie gasped and threw a withering glare at her friend. It was reciprocated until Trixie sighed in defeat. "Fine," she sulked and leveled a hoof at Starlight. "But this is going to cost you your invitation to the L.E.R.P. Board of Directors Hearth's Warming ski vacation."

Discord crossed his arms. "That didn't sound like an invitation to me."

Trixie bristled, but with a grimace from Starlight, she rolled her eyes and sighed. "Discord, it would please Trixie ever so much if you would join the team."

Discord clapped. "Wonderful! I accept. We can work out the details of the name later, but a deal is a deal. Never let it be said that Discord does not keep his promises. Out with the new and in with the edgy." He snapped his talons, and in a flash of light, Fizzlepop found her usual rose mohawk back where it should be. 

"Now," Discord continued, "if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see if Spike and Big Mac are all set up for this week’s dungeon crawl." An olive green soldier's helmet appeared on his head, and he saluted Fizzlepop. "By your leave, Commander." And with a flash, he disappeared.

"Sorry about that," Starlight apologized with a grateful sigh. "I forgot you hadn't met Discord yet."

"Is he always that obnoxious?" Fizzlepop asked, taking several deep breaths to calm herself.

Trixie swiped her hat from off the table and inspected its interior before fitting it back onto her head. "He's a menace is what he is."

Starlight shrugged. "I'd use the term ‘acquired taste.’ "

With an annoyed snort, Fizzlepop nudged her collapsed mountain of ice cream. "I think my taste for him would match my fondness for this mountain of sadness."

"For a fellow L.E.R.P. member, Trixie will gladly render assistance," the unicorn announced, reaching for the remaining cherries.

“Maybe Discord was right about the name,” Fizzlepop muttered.

Pretending not to hear her, Trixie said, “Trixie believes this first meeting to have been quite the success,” between bites.

Fizzlepop rolled her eyes. "Trixie's attempt to organize a franchise of former antagonists and Discord apparently just being himself aside, I'm still no closer to figuring out what to do about the students’ parents and the staff who still see me as Commander Tempest."

"Dealing with parents and colleagues is like dealing with students," Starlight began. "Remember our talks about meeting others on their level? Adjusting your approach so what you're trying to say makes it across without sounding…” she chewed on her cheek for a moment before settling on a word, “...insensitive?"

"But these are adults," Fizzlepop argued. "Why should I have to cater to their whims like children?"

"Not everyone has your thick hide, Fizzy."

"Trixie agrees with Fizzlepop," she said in between bites of a cherry. "Trixie would have had a much easier time if others just understood that Trixie's comments weren't personal." She twirled a hoof idly. "Well, usually."

Starlight waved her friend off. "We'll get to your issues some other time, Trixie. Right now, we're working on Fizzy."

"No," Fizzlepop sighed, glancing at a wall clock. "You two go ahead and enjoy the rest of your time. You're welcome to the ice cream." She pushed back from the table and stood. "I'm going to be late for my next appointment if I don't leave now."

"Come by later if you want to talk some more," Starlight offered with a genuine smile.

Fizzlepop returned the smile with a small one of her own and nodded. "Will do." She dipped her head to Trixie, who had already laid claim to the bowl of half-melted delight. "Always a pleasure." Then Fizzlepop marched out of the cafeteria, wary and curious eyes from many new staffers following her till she was out of sight.