//------------------------------//
// The Show 
// Story: A Flash of Lightning 
// by Summer Knight 
//------------------------------//

Flash Magnus had seen Wonderbolts shows before: They were jaw-dropping displays of speed, skill, and precision. Each stunt was meticulously planned out, then drilled to perfection. 
This was most definitely not a Wonderbolts show. 
He watched with his heart in his throat as the Washouts rolled and dove around flames, storm clouds, and each other. Their routine seemed to be at least half-improvised, and they frequently missed colliding with one another by inches. On one occasion, the taller pegasus—Rolling Thunder, he'd learned—finished spiraling around a jet of fire only to fly straight backstage and dunk her smoldering wing into a barrel of water. 
"Heh. Told ya we're the hottest show in Equestria," Thunder quipped. Then she snapped Flash and Winter Winds a lazy salute before taking off again; she hadn't even let the medic look at her first.
Flash shook his head in disbelief as Rolling Thunder rejoined the show. "These have got to be the most reckless, undisciplined, stupid pegasi in Equestria," he muttered to Winter. 
"Oh, get over yourself," his friend snapped back. "They do this stuff all the time."
"If she'd been a couple inches to the right, she would have burned off her flight feathers."
"But she wasn't, and she didn't."
Magnus huffed angrily, but dropped the subject. He watched the rest of the show intently, nervously, ready to spring into action if need be. He found himself wishing that he'd brought Netitus, his magical flameproof shield—and thought it was absurd that he felt the need to be armed at a stunt-flying show.
Around half an hour later, Lightning Dust swooped down to grab a microphone. 
"Fillies and gentlecolts," she announced, "it's time for the grand finale!" 
The audience, including Winter Winds, responded with a huge outburst of cheers and applause.
"Tonight," she continued, her magically-enhanced voice easily carrying over the roar of the crowd, "Short Fuse will reenact a moment from Equestrian history: The legendary battle where Flash Magnus single-hoofedly took on a whole nest of dragons!"
Flash rolled his eyes. "It was only two dragons, and it took the entire squadron to chase them off," he said, well aware that absolutely nopony could hear him.
Short Fuse, the small red stallion of the Washouts, darted backstage to prepare for his act. In doing so, he missed colliding with Winter Winds by less than a foot. 
"Where is it?!" Short Fuse screamed at the nearest stagehoof. 
"Where's what?" the mare asked. 
"My shield! For the finale! WHERE'S MY BUCKING SHIELD?!"
"Here, sir!" another backstage pony answered. He levitated a small, bronze-colored triangle over to Short Fuse—apparently, that was supposed to be Netitus. "And your helmet." A cheap replica of Flash's crested helm joined the "shield."
Short Fuse snatched the two props out of the air without a word of thanks. He jammed the helmet onto his head, strapped the shield to a foreleg, and flew back out to bask in the crowd's applause. 
"He looks just like you, Flash!" Winter snickered as the Washout posed, showing off his shoddy costume. 
"Oh, for Faust's sake," Magnus muttered. He could feel heat rising in his face at the embarrassing display, and turned side to look for a distraction. His eyes settled on the poor stagehoof who'd borne the brunt of Short Fuse's temper. 
"You know," he said to her, "you don't have to let him talk to you like that."
To Flash's surprise, the mare waved a hoof unconcernedly. 
"Oh, that's just how Short Fuse is, especially during a show," she replied. "He doesn't mean anything by it." She gestured back toward the arena. "Anyway, keep watching; you won't want to miss this one. Especially you, Mr. Magnus!"
Somehow, Flash thought he'd be perfectly happy to miss this mockery of his most famous battle. Nonetheless, he returned his attention to the show. If nothing else, he was now morbidly curious about the act.
"And now," Lightning Dust called through her enchanted microphone, "bring on the dragons!"
Several stagehoofs worked together to wheel out a massive, blanket-covered prop. It had to be ten times the size of an average stallion, meaning it was about fifteen times Short Fuse's size. When they pulled off the blanket, the crowd gasped—and so did Flash, in spite of himself. 
The prop was a huge wooden carving of no less than nine dragon heads and necks, all snaking out of the same tall block and angling upward toward the sky. The overall effect was more like a hydra than a nest of dragons, but even so, it was an impressive piece. Flash figured that it must have cost more than the rest of the Washouts' props and supplies combined.
It went from impressive to terrifying when somepony pulled a lever on the side of the statue, and brief jets of fire began erupting from its nine mouths. If there was a pattern to the flames, Flash couldn't see it.
"That's right, fillies and gentlecolts," Lightning Dust continued, "the dragons may be fake, but the fire breath is oh, so real! Now, armed only with his legendary shield, our hero will battle these monsters. Let's hear it for him!" She raised a hoof to one ear, and the crowd responded with their loudest cheers yet. 
"The sky is yours, Sir Magnus," Lightning concluded with a posh accent and an overdone bow to Short Fuse. She flew back to the ground to watch.
Short Fuse took his position above the sculpture, just barely out of reach of the fire jets. He squinted at it for a long moment, then dove headlong toward the very center of the mass of heads. He performed a deft aileron roll to escape from one flame, then a high-g loop to dodge another. 
"Is that shield fireproof?" Magnus muttered to the stagehoof he'd spoken to a few moments ago. 
"Psh, hardly," she scoffed. "It's papier-mâché on a wood frame."
"I see..." 
Despite his misgivings, Flash had to admit that Short Fuse's aerobatics were impressive—he reached the middle head without so much as getting singed. A powerful buck to the top of the head snapped that "dragon's" neck and sent it crashing to the ground. The audience screamed their approval as Short Fuse flew back up to prepare for another run. 
When the pegasus started his second dive, Flash suddenly leaned forward in concern. The fallen head had just sputtered out what remained of its flames, directly toward the base of the statue. 
"Where's the fuel source for that?" he urgently asked the stagehoof. 
"In the big part at the bottom... oh no." The blood drained from her face. 
Magnus leapt to his hooves. "Short Fuse," he bellowed, "pull up!" Unfortunately, his voice—honed to carry across battlefields—couldn't hope to compete with the crowd's enthusiasm. Instead, he shot a look toward Winter Winds, who nodded back; the coltish excitement was gone from his face, replaced with the stern determination of a solider. 
However, before the two could leap into action, the worst happened: Right as Short Fuse reached his second target, the heat inside the smoldering statue ignited the fuel all at once. Only now, far too late, did the pegasus realize the danger he was in. He tried to bank upward, and reflexively held his "shield" out in front of him.
The real Netitus might have protected Short Fuse from the worst of the blast, but his flimsy prop didn't stand a chance. He was flung across the arena and crashed into the stands on the far side. 
The microphone picked up Lightning Dust's gasp. Half a heartbeat later, she and Rolling Thunder were at Short Fuse's side. Apparently without any need for communication, the two pegasi whipped up a miniature cyclone to blow out the fire that threatened to burn their squadmate alive. By the time the winds dispersed, their medic was there with his kit to look at the injured stallion. 
Flash couldn't hear what anypony was saying, but he did see the medic nod to the others. 
Apparently that nod was all the reassurance that Lightning Dust needed. She darted back to her microphone and announced, "He's gonna be okay, folks! And wow, what a finish! Let's hear it one more time for Short Fuse!" 
The crowd replied with the now-familiar cheers and applause.
"Give it up for Rolling Thunder!" 
More cheering as the lanky pegasus mare took a bow. 
"And finally, me: Your host, the founder and leader of the Washouts, and the best flier in Equestria. The name's Lightning Dust, and don't you forget it!" 
For her, the audience gave their loudest cheers yet.



"Phew!" Rolling Thunder toweled off her mane and took a swig from her water bottle. "Heck of a show, Lightnin'." The two Washouts shared a celebratory hoofbump. 
"And what did our special guests think?" Lightning asked as she strutted up to the two royal guards. 
Flash Magnus held his tongue on what he actually thought—for now. Instead, he nodded toward the arena, where a medical team had just arrived to take over caring for Short Fuse. "You two don't seem very concerned that your squadmate's on his way to the hospital."
"Nah, Quick Stitch said that Fuse'd be fine," Rolling Thunder replied. "Broken leg, maybe a concussion, that's it. He'll be back in the sky in no time."
"We've all had worse," Lightning added. 
"And that doesn't bother you?" Flash asked them. 
"Why would it?" Rolling Thunder looked genuinely confused. 
Lightning, on the other hoof, just looked mad. "Hey, Thunder, why don'tcha take our friend here for a drink?" She nodded toward Winter. "I think Mr. Pillar of Bravery and I are gonna have a chat." Somehow, Flash's title sounded like an insult when she said it. 
"Sure thing, Lightnin'!" Rolling Thunder walked up to a now utterly star-struck Winter Winds. The leggy mare stood a full head over him. "What do ya say, mate?" She turned and gave the guard a suggestive flick to the nose with her tail. "Fancy gettin' a drink with me?"
Winter's normally off-white face had turned a deep red, and he seemed to have forgotten how to speak. 
"I'll take that as a yes. C'mon then." She trotted off toward the Washouts' trailer. Winter Winds followed as if under a spell. 
There were hundreds of ponies filing out of the arena. Stagehoofs were breaking down the Washouts' props and sets, and packing up to move on to their next show. Two ponies had loaded Short Fuse onto a wagon and were carrying him away toward the hospital. It was a lot of commotion by any measure.
In the middle of it all, untouched by any of it, Flash Magnus and Lightning Dust squared off.