“NO WAY!” The table erupted into laughter. Soarin rubbed his temples as he waited for everypony to settle down.
“So, you’re telling us that you and Spitfire started brawling on your second day of basic?” Misty Fly managed between bouts of laughter, which devolved into wheezing.
“Yes…”
“And you two got stuck with double work, too,” Thunderlane added. “Sweet Celestia, that’s hilarious.”
“Yeah, laugh it up. Ha ha.” Soarin mumbled before chugging the rest of his drink. “At the time, it really felt like my life was over. I was already in trouble, and I was stuck with a pony I hated, and hated me back.”
“But, I thought it was a love at first sight thing. Didn’t you say she caught your eye the first time you ever saw her?” Fleetfoot asked.
Soarin shook his head.“You would think, but far from it. Her attitude at the time killed any romantic interest I had. The next few weeks were some of the most miserable of my life. Probably hers too.” Soarin laughed. “We made sure the other was miserable.”
“Well, don’t leave us hanging,” Thunderlane pressed, putting his hoof on Soarin’s shoulder and playfully shoving him. “Tell us what happens next!”
“Fine, but I’ll need another drink…”
The two pegasi had been assigned bathroom duty after another round of physical training. They expected to be given actual cleaning supplies, but Bullet provided them with only a pair of old toothbrushes. They attempted to argue, but were quickly shut down and put to work.
“Wow. Thanks, prick,” Spitfire said, dragging her hooves. “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you of all ponies.”
“Hey genius, dunno if you missed the memo, but I’m the one stuck here with you. This is all because of you.” Soarin growled. “You just had to attack me.”
“I warned you not to call me… that.”
“So what? What’s the big deal? Bullet called you Twinkleh-”
“Don’t.”
“Ugh. She called you that, so why can’t I?”
Spitfire looked at him like he was some kind of idiot. “Uh, she’s our superior? She can call me whatever she wants and I can’t do anything about it. You, though - I don’t even care if they kick me out for it. If you ever call me that again, I will atomize you.”
Soarin flinched. “But what’s the big deal with that name specifically? It’s not even that insulting,” he remarked, turning his head to look at her. She just grumbled in response. “Whatever,” he said, before continuing to scrub the tile floor with the toothbrush. “It’s your fault we’re stuck here. I’ll be waiting for your apology.”
They scrubbed the bathroom in silence after that. They each stayed on their separate sides, avoiding each other whenever possible, and this meant the middle of the bathroom wasn’t clean by the time Bullet returned to check their work. Fortunately for them, she seemed distracted with some paperwork on a clipboard, so she dismissed the two for the day along with the rest of the recruits.
“Bye bye, you two. Enjoy your bunks,” she said ominously. The two cadets eyed her cautiously, but moved on. Without speaking a word to each other, they headed back toward the barracks.
As they headed inside, Spitfire was the first to notice that her things had been moved. The bunk that was once hers was now empty. Soarin noticed her freeze, and as he followed her line of sight, he turned and noticed that his bunk was also empty. Slowly, their eyes shifted to the center of the room where a set of bunks sat conspicuously out in the open. On the top bunk were Soarin’s things, and Spitfire’s were on the bottom.
They jumbled their words as they tried to comprehend what was going on until Leaf approached Soarin from the side.
“I’m sorry, Soarin. She made us all move your things to the center bunk. Said that you and her are now bunkmates for the rest of basic.”
“Are you serious?!” Soarin and Spitfire both spewed out, staring at their new bunk. Soarin groaned and held his head between his hooves as he sat on the ground. Meanwhile, Spitfire shouted curses into the air, ripping the sheets off her new bed.
“I regret signing up for this,” Soarin mumbled.
“Alright Cadets, line up!” Bullet screamed into the crowd of recruits. The cold rain poured down on them unforgivingly as they fell into formation. Despite it being noon, the sky was as dark as night, with the bitter wind pulling the heat from their bodies. It was the worst rainstorm Soarin had ever seen.
“We are going to start the dreaded obstacle course. Today, we will set your base times.The average base time for new recruits is just under fourteen minutes. You can manage that, can’t you, cadets?
“YES DRILL SERGEANT!”
“Good. We will be running this course multiple times a week, giving you plenty of time to practice. You can also practice on your own time, if you want a gold star. Similar to today, a storm will be set up for the final course. It could be rain, it could be hail, it could be snow. So the rain today will offer a taste of what’s to come.”
Soarin stole a look over to his left, where Spitfire stood. Her coat was totally soaked through, and her mane had fallen flat over her eyes. She didn’t look happy.
“I expect you to decrease your time as you get used to the course. The average time for graduates, at the final run, is under eleven minutes. If you do not meet the Wonderbolt average within fifteen seconds for your final run, you will be dropped from the Academy. Your goal will be to finish with time to spare. Understood?”
“YES DRILL SERGEANT!”
“The Wonderbolts are a team, so you must learn how to work together.” Bullet emphasized this point by looking directly at Soarin and Spitfire. “The course will be run in pairs. Both ponies must cross the finish line at the same time to be counted. You will not receive points for beating your partner to the finish line. In fact, you will be penalized. Understood?”
“YES DRILL SERGEANT!”
Naturally, Soarin and Spitfire were forced to be partners, much to the horror of Leaf. He did manage to find himself a partner: Cirrus, a light blue mare who was nearly as tall as he was, Spitfire’s ex-partner. Then, once again to his horror, Leaf learned that he and Cirrus would be the first to go. He meekly waved at Soarin before being pushed up to the starting line.
“Remember cadets, teamwork is key. Instead of suffering over shortcomings, find ways to work around them together. Alright, are you ready?”
Cirrus loaded her weight onto her hind legs, clawing at the ground with a forehoof. Leaf stretched his neck from side to side and breathed deeply, starting forward toward the obstacle course.
“SET! GO!”
The obstacle course seemed pretty normal from a distance. There was a rope wall to climb, a mud pit and barbed wire to crawl under. There were concrete barriers to jump over and weave through. Though as they progressed through the course, the cadets would realize that hidden behind one of the taller obstacles was the tunnel; subject of legends and nightmares for dropouts and graduates alike. Finally, after making it to the end of the course, each cadet had to carry a heavy sandbag all the way back around and drop it at the starting line.
Leaf and Cirrus made it through the course in a respectable fourteen minutes and thirty-four seconds. The rest of the recruits lined up with their partners, waiting to go. Spitfire and Soarin were about to be the fourth out of ten teams to go through, but Bullet stopped them before they could move up to the starting line.
“Hold it, you two. You’re going last,” she said nonchalantly. “And I have an extra rule for you. Unlike all the others, you don’t get those precious fifteen seconds for your final run. Instead, you two will have to exceed the academy average by fifteen seconds during your final run, or I will expel you both.” She leaned in close to them. “Understood?”
Both cadets’ hearts froze in their chests.
“Y-yes, Drill Sergeant,” they managed to choke out.
“Good. So get in the back of the line. Move it.”
As the rest of Bullet company ran the course, Soarin and Spitfire watched the other recruits intently to see if they could learn any tricks to help them on the course. Soarin noted that they could avoid losing time on the mud crawl if they used their wings for more leverage. They stood in the torrential rain, being pelted by the sharp raindrops for a miserably long time before all the other teams had finished, leaving only Soarin and Spitfire behind the starting line.
Bullet addressed them in an unusually kind tone. “Alright, you two. Do your best, and remember, you have to cross the line together or it doesn’t count. Alright. Ready? Set, and… GO!” she shouted, as she clicked her stopwatch. Immediately, Soarin and Spitfire bounded down the open field to the first obstacle. There were a dozen tires that they had to run through, which they managed to do with little issue.
“Yeah! This isn’t so bad!” Soarin cheered, as they cleared the first obstacle and approached the second.
“Not yet at least…” Spitfire mumbled back. The pair then arrived at the second obstacle, which was a rope wall, but the catch was that they had to secure the rope themselves first. The wall was solid concrete except for a wooden post laid horizontally on top where they would have to feed the rope through.
“Okay, I’m gonna throw this rope up and over the top of the wooden thing. Get ready to grab it when it comes down.” Soarin called to Spitfire.
“Thanks for the heads up, Captain Obvious.”
Soarin shook his head, annoyed by her tone, before grabbing the rope with his teeth and preparing to toss it upwards. “Here it comes!” he yelled as he whipped his neck up and tossed the rope well over the wooden post and over to the other side. Spitfire grabbed the falling rope with her hooves and held it down.
With that success, they tied the rope to the hitch on the ground and started their ascent up the wall. They found that climbing a slick concrete wall in the pouring rain was no easy task, when they were forbidden from flying, and they both suffered a couple of hard falls before either of them made it over and down.
Next up, after a quarter mile run, was the barbed wire mud pit. Here they would have to crawl on their bellies through the sludge, while staying low enough that they didn’t scrape the barbed wire hanging above. Spitfire was the first to get down into the mud and start crawling, but as soon as she ducked under the first bit of barbed wire, she slipped and fell face first into the muck. Soarin couldn’t hold back his laughter, earning a dirty look from Spitfire. While she worked to pick herself back up, Soarin took the opportunity to pass her by.
“Cutting in line now? Are you a foal? Ugh! Whatever, just get going,” she barked, following him. The rain beat down even harder as they crawled through. It didn't help that the mud was well-trodden by now, with hoof-prints and tracks worn into it from the prior teams.
Soarin found himself behind Spitfire very quickly. She had somehow managed to get around and back in front of him as he struggled to push himself through the sludge. He sneered. As if he would let her of all ponies get ahead of him. Suddenly, an idea popped into Soarin’s head: what if he were to use his wings to help propel himself through the mud? Bullet had said they weren’t allowed to fly, but she had not forbidden them from using their wings altogether. Soarin silently praised himself for discovering such a perfect loophole.
He could use the opportunity to get past Spitfire once again and prove that he was more capable. He extended his wings, winced as he pushed them into the cold mud, and pushed himself forward. It seemed slightly easier to move, now, and he noticed he was getting closer to Spitfire. Soarin chuckled between breaths. He knew that it would work! He really was a genius.
Eventually, Spitfire must have noticed that she wasn’t gaining on him anymore, and she looked over her shoulder to see Soarin nearly on her tail.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“I’m using a new technique to wade through the mud,” he replied breathlessly as he continued his crawl forward.
“Cut that out! You’re just slowing us both down, and you’re covering yourself in mud, like an idiot.”
“Are you kidding me?” he laughed. “I’m about to pass you. You’re the one slowing us down now..”
“I’m trying to-” Spitfire began, but then she just sighed. “Whatever. I’ll just go back to slowing us down.” She suddenly picked up speed, and added a moment later, “Idiot.”
How could this be? She wasn’t even using her wings! - Soarin thought. He shouted, “Hey!” as she pushed ahead, but got sprayed by some mud she’d kicked up. He stopped completely to clear the stuff out of his eyes and nose, and by the time he was moving again, Spitfire had made up even more distance, and was soon out of the mud pit.
A sigh became a groan as Soarin pounded the ground with his hoof. He could accept that she was faster than him, but she didn’t have to be such a bitch about it.
The next obstacle was another climbing wall, but with no rope, and as he approached it he saw Spitfire looking up at the first hoofhold.
“Done crying?” Spitfire asked him. Then she looked at him, as if expecting an answer.
“Buck off,” he replied. “Let’s just get this over with…”
Spitfire nodded, and began climbing, with Soarin just behind her. The wall was twice as tall as they were long, and only had a dozen places for them to grab along one path - that meant the next spot Soarin went to grab was usually one Spitfire was still supporting herself on. There were a few awkward moments as he pinned Spitfire’s tail to the wall with an absent hoof, or as Spitfire had to step down to rearrange her hooves, forcing him down one step behind her.
When Spitfire reached the top, she climbed up and straddled the wall, waiting for Soarin to catch up. “Okay,” she said, “I don’t see any hoofholds on the way down. We’re gonna have to… help each other down.” As he reached the top of the wall and pulled himself on top, he peered over the edge to see for himself.
“It doesn’t look too bad. We can probably get down ourselves,” he replied, trying his best to avoid having to accept her help.
“Don’t be petty. Do you want to finish this course, or not?” Spitfire snapped, receiving a sigh in response.
“Fine. Mares first.”
“Alright, let’s get this over with…” Spitfire said as she kicked her hind legs over the wall and reached out a hoof to Soarin, who reluctantly grabbed it with his own. “Going down…” she said, as she slowly started down the wall. The rain continued to beat down upon both of them, and to his horror, Soarin noticed that he was losing his grip on Spitfire. A combination of the caked-on mud, pouring rain and exhaustion caused his grip on her to start slipping. He grit and ground his teeth as he tried his best to adjust his grip, which worked for a few seconds, but then the mud caused both of their grasps to fail. Spitfire screamed as she tumbled down the side of the concrete wall, followed soon after by Soarin, whose balance relied on holding onto another pony. They both smacked into the muddy pit at the bottom of the wall. Spitfire had landed square on her back, knocking the wind out of her and rendering her unable to even vocalize the pain. Soarin breathed sharply through his teeth as his shoulder emanated a dull, aching pain. He breathlessly let out an apology, but she didn’t respond - either she couldn’t hear him, or she wasn’t feeling so talkative at the moment. After a few moments to catch their breath and shake off their injuries, they wordlessly trudged forward to the next challenge.
The next obstacle was a forest of concrete pillars and beams, dense enough that they couldn’t see straight through more than a few meters. Inside, they had to crawl, turn, weave, and jump through the barriers, as the paths twisted, doubled back, or ended abruptly. Many transition spaces in the concrete maze were tight enough, or tall enough, that the two cadets needed to help each other to make their way through, but none were as difficult as the prior obstacles.
Soon, they both reached the end of the forest, and slowed down to catch their breath and brace themselves for the most infamous and dreaded part of the course: the tunnel. A concrete pipe half-buried in a mound of gravel, with the other end appearing 80 meters away, it wasn’t too inviting from the outside. But they knew that it wasn’t straight - there were twists and turns underground that extended the obstacle and made the center of it pitch black, even on a bright day, and in a storm like this one, the deeper sections would be flooded.
Spitfire stood only a few paces away from the entrance, seeming frozen in place. Almost as if she were hypnotized by the pure darkness within the tunnel. Tired of waiting, Soarin trudged past her through a trail of mud toward the entrance, but then was knocked down onto his face by Spitfire.
“Out of my way, prick, I’m going first,” she mumbled, as she ducked into the tunnel. “Not getting stuck behind you again…”
Soarin groaned and shook the mud off of himself. “Horsefeathers!” He got down low to enter the mouth of the tunnel and crawled inside. The tunnel was already flooded by a few inches of water as well as a layer of mud below that. His ears flattened against his head, as he was wary of the low ceiling, and he kept low to manage on the curved, scummy floor, but soon he found that he could stand fully upright, and walk normally without issue. The space looked smaller than it really was. Spitfire was moving quickly, but she seemed to adapt to this slower than Soarin.
The first section was fairly trivial, but about a dozen meters in, they found the first corner. There they could still see the curved walls, and the ripples of the water at their hooves, but after the turn there was just a fade into darkness. When Soarin looked down the tunnel, it felt as if there was a wet towel pressed over his eyes, and the feeling deepened as they moved further. The passage became louder as they descended, paradoxically, as the water rose up to their fetlocks and the increasing sounds of splashing and breathing reflected back at them from all sides. Soarin now understood why this was the stuff of nightmares.
He followed Spitfire as they descended further into the tunnel, far enough down that the water was nearly up to their shoulders, and running became difficult. The air was stale and warm and humid down here, and the space small enough that the sound from every labored breath, every rushing heartbeat, seemed to be directed into his skull. Spitfire was having trouble here. She moved slowly, but she panted as if she was in a constant sprint.
Soarin tried to just focus on getting through the tunnel, rather than on his frustrating partner, but a few more turns, and another dozen meters into the tunnel, by his reckoning, he suddenly bumped into Spitfire, and got a face full of tail.
“Hey,” she said, in a warning tone.
He apologized, more out of a reflex than anything, and continued moving after giving her some space. But soon after that he just bumped into her again.
“Hey!” Spitfire shouted. “Idiot. This is hard enough without you bumping into me.”
Soarin was about to apologize again, but he bit his tongue. He knew she had slowed down. “Wouldn’t be a problem if you moved faster,” he argued.
Spitfire stopped moving completely, forcing Soarin to stop as well, and huffed in anger. “I can’t just gallop through here,” she said, slowly, though with an odd wavering quality, “because I can’t see. I’d just smack into the next corner.”
“Doesn’t seem that hard,” Soarin scoffed. “Maybe I should go in front-”
“In your dreams!” Spitfire laughed, and started moving again. “I said I wasn’t getting stuck behind you again, and-”
Spitfire was interrupted by a sudden splash, and began to struggle and thrash in the water. Soarin couldn’t tell what was happening - Was she being attacked? Had something happened to the tunnel? - but soon realized that she had merely slipped, and was struggling to find her footing again. He sighed and went to help her up, but that was easier thought than done.
“Where are you?” he asked. Spitfire coughed and sputtered in the darkness right in front of him. “Just - just stop flailing around so much,” he muttered, as he carefully stepped closer to her, feeling for hooves or wings - anything he could support her by. When he did find her, and bent down to try to grab her, he was hit in the face by a rogue hoof. He lost his balance and fell sideways into the side of the tunnel.
“Shit!” he cried. He pressed a hoof to his face to check if he was bleeding, but, being blind and nearly submerged, there was no way to tell. Soarin screamed at Spitfire, “This is stupid! Just stop panicking!”
Spitfire did not stop panicking immediately, but the splashing and struggling did slow down. Soarin’s heart sank when he considered that she might actually be drowning, but he was relieved to hear a ragged breath of air followed by a racking cough.
Soarin waited until her breathing was more under control before he spoke up again. By that time, she was still shivering violently. “Hey, you okay?” he asked.”
There was a long moment before Spitfire responded, “No.”
He figured she would say that. “What happened?”
“I- I can’t move,” she squeaked.
“You’re stuck?”
“No, I… it’s so dark…”
“It’s been dark this whole time!” Soarin laughed. “Come on, if you can talk, you can walk, at least. We’re losing time here.”
“It’s more than that, you idiot! It’s just so cramped in here and I- I can’t see anything!”
“Come on, it’s not that bad.”
“And the air in here, I can’t breath, I…”
“You were doing fine before!”
“It just keeps getting deeper, so- so if we…”
“We’ve just got to keep moving.”
“N-No!” Spitfire shrieked, her breaths fast and labored. “I-I-I think we’re stuck! Help, somepony!”
“Listen,” Soarin begged, “You…” but he trailed off. Spitfire was taking a deep breath. He covered his ears.
The mare screamed, until her lungs were empty, “HEEEEEEELP!!!”
Soarin cringed. “Gah!”
The sound reflected back at them from every angle, making it feel like she was screaming directly into Soarin’s ears, and it was followed by a long series of echoes from up and down the tunnel. Soon enough afterwards, Spitfire took another deep breath, and screamed for help again.
“Ow!” Soarin screeched, considering diving under the water to muffle the sound.. “Shut up! They’re going to think somepony died down here!!”
“I’m trapped! I can’t breathe! HEEELP!”
“Celestia, damn it!” he snapped as he grew increasingly worried about their time. “You’re not trapped, you featherbrain.” He had no way of knowing how much time they had already spent on the course, and now they were both stuck here in the tunnel.
“No! Soarin, I can’t breathe in here! I’m suffocating! Help!” she screamed.
“Ugh! We don’t have time for this,” Soarin groaned as he moved up behind Spitfire, put his shoulders against her flanks, and began to push.
“W-what are you doing!?” she screeched with surprise.
“I don’t have time for this,” he repeated. “I’m not about to get kicked out of the Wonderbolts because you’re claustrophobic. I’ll drag you the whole way, if I have to, but I’m getting out of here.”
“W-w-wha,” she sputtered, but she didn’t resist beyond that, nor did she try to move on her own.
Soarin had to shove her through the tunnel by sheer force, and he was working against the friction of her hooves, the weight of the water, and the slippery mud and scum on the tunnel’s round floor. It felt like hours passed. Thick beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. His legs were sore and cramped, and the going was unsteady. But the water level gradually dropped as he started to move upwards, so he was able to lower his head and partially lift Spitfire over his shoulders. Eventually he could see light in the distance.
“Yes! Yes! We’re almost out!” he cheered. Just a little longer. The light grew brighter and brighter, almost blinding, and Soarin kept pushing until he could see the sky above him - then he collapsed, and the two cadets were sprawled out in a giant puddle of mud that had collected at the exit of the tunnel.
Spitfire seemed to snap out of her daze almost instantly, as she realized she was out in the open. She spread out her wings as far as they would go and stretched her limbs out. Then she looked down at Soarin. She just stared at him for a long time, giving him a look that he couldn’t quite decipher.
Soarin managed to say, between breaths, “You’re welcome.” She huffed and turned away, but Soarin could see the tension fade from her shoulders as they relaxed. He dragged himself upright. Every muscle in his body screamed out in agony, but there wasn’t any time to spare. They still had one last challenge to complete before they could reach the end. The sandbag run.
They both trudged ahead, towards the end of the course. Spitfire wasn’t moving as quickly as she had before, but neither was Soarin. He was exhausted. Every step he took through the rain felt like it could be his last. Fortunately, the location of the sandbags wasn’t far from the tunnel’s exit. Two bags of sand sat under a wooden awning, somewhat protected from the pouring rain. Soarin picked up one of the bags and draped it over Spitfire's back before grabbing the final bag and throwing it over his own. He noticed her hesitate and freeze in place, looking back at the tunnel. Down there was one thing, but even now that they were out in the open, she wasn’t behaving normally.
“You alright?” he asked genuinely, stopping for a moment. He noticed her tense up once more, but as she turned around as if to say something, she stopped herself when she looked back at Soarin. Her eyes shifted downward before she replied.
“Let’s just get this over with,” she said as she started towards the finish line. “The quicker we can get to the finish, the quicker we can get out of this rain.”
Soarin couldn’t help but agree. Together, they stumbled toward the finish line with what little energy that they had left. The fierce wind sent sharp, blinding rain into their faces. Even so, the yellow flags indicating the finish line were soon visible. They could ignore the pain, the cold, the battering storm, now that the end was in sight. The moment they crossed, they both flung their sandbags off of their backs and collapsed onto the ground.
“Well, you two sure don’t disappoint,” Bullet announced, as she approached them. “Twenty-nine minutes and fifteen seconds. You’ve broken the academy record for the slowest completed obstacle run. That doesn’t count dropouts.” She waited for a response, but two cadets were still fighting for their breath in the mud. She looked down at them. “I’d like to be able to say that you made a good pace before the tunnel, but you didn’t. You were still well below average. I’m a tall enough mare to admit when I’m wrong, and I was wrong in thinking you two had potential. You have disappointed me.”
A few seconds passed before Swift Bullet turned and walked away. Soarin and Spitfire laid where they fell, their bodies aching and cold. The only things they could hear were the torrential, unrelenting rain, and each other, breathing.