The light-bulb briefly blinked to life, before its pulse again began to fade and wither into oblivion. Its glass was half-shattered, dangling in the draft by the bathroom mirror.
She was alone in the dark, having sought out some much-needed isolation after a day’s work under the sun.
Lightning Dust pawed at her eyelids, inspecting her reflection before it disappeared with the light. She could still feel her flesh cooking, clad in her black spandex suit. The air was just as stuffy in here as it was outside, she realized, and her attempt at escaping the heat was all but in vain.
She sighed in exhaustion, yawning and reaching down for the tin flask in her duffel bag.
“Dang it,” she muttered, having forgotten she had drunk it dry that morning.
She had better not take too long, she reminded herself - the others were probably waiting for her.
There’s still more work to do.
Her legs were jittery, and she could hardly stand still while she went about washing her face and fixing the creases in her suit.
Part of her still thought this was all some elaborate prank.
But the others were well-convinced the letters were real. Invitation after invitation, each from the Equestrian Athletic Association. They were practically begging for a yes. A slot in the Equestria Games, the greatest sporting event in all Equestria.
Lightning scoffed. It was more of a joke, to think she needed the approval of some pompous, prissy executives, the same ones who had once turned a blind eye to her expulsion from the Wonderbolts all those years ago.
But the Washouts were all the rage nowadays, the closest thing to a rival the Wonderbolts had ever known.
And though Lightning may have been content to turn the Association down and keep some scrap of integrity, her teammates outnumbered her on the matter. The money happened to speak louder than she could ever have hoped to.
This year’s games would be held at Messara Island, a tropical ruin off the southwest shore of the mainland, baking in the summer sun. Ponies from all across Equestria had made the trip south for the games, including Princess Twilight Sparkle, Princess Cadence, and the now-retired princesses, Celestia and Luna.
With their newfound global popularity, the Washouts had welcomed some new teammates to round out a proper roster. They currently sat at nine, though if their newest prospect’s broken tailbone healed a bit sooner, that would make ten.
There had been pressure to sign new contracts, expand management, and sanitize their image, but the last thing Lightning wanted was for them to turn into a Wonderbolts 2.0.
At the end of the day, it was Lightning who had the final say on the team’s decisions, and she tried her best to not let that power go to her head.
It was a miracle the Washouts were still together at all; the team had developed a bad habit of infighting, an unavoidable consequence of ten supersized egos colliding with each other on a daily basis. After three break-ups and three reunions, the only thing that seemed to keep them united was contempt for the Wonderbolts.
It had been three years since the Washouts first started making waves, though Lightning still had trouble opening up too much to her teammates, even to Rolling Thunder and Short Fuse, the two closest ponies she could call friends.
Friends, Lightning thought to herself, rolling her eyes.
Friends just slow me down.
Still, she could not deny the begrudging affection she had for them, especially for the younger team members, who had half the skill and twice the arrogance.
Whether it was recklessness, anger issues, or ego, Lightning had an easy time understanding why her teammates were given the boot at the academy. But the way she saw it, anypony could be the best of the best - something the Wonderbolts seemed to never have understood.
This would be the team’s first-ever race against the Wonderbolts, and together they had helped draw the largest crowd in the Games’ history. Among those in attendance were her teammates’ families and friends from far and wide.
Lightning’s scowl hardened.
She tried not to think about her father, about what he would have done. There was no point in it.
But maybe, if he could see her somehow, he would know she had made it here, she had come all this way.
She bit her lips and crossed her hind legs, laughing at herself for wanting to cry.
She shook her head in frustration, wishing she could have earned him some more years, if only to bring him here today, if only for a single race. The best she could do was pretend.
There was a time when this was all she ever would have wanted, before the Wonderbolts closed the door to those dreams forever. She would never fly with them.
Perhaps flying against them was the next best thing.
She still remembered those smirking faces, and the rumors that she had drunk herself to death, or skipped town, or disappeared entirely. Blacklisting her from the Weather Factory, turning her friends against her, nothing was ever enough for them. Every time she thought she had found stability, the Wonderbolts reared their head in one way or another, eager to knock her back down.
She laughed to herself in disbelief.
Like they even think about me at all.
She had tried her best to forget it all, to leave the Wonderbolts as a thing of the past and focus her sights on a new future. But though she would never admit it, there was still a terrible anger inside her, a need for revenge.
She could have been so much more.
Maybe the others were right, she thought to herself, maybe these games won’t be a waste of time after all.
Time to show the world what I’ve got.
Old bandages came tumbling into a pile on the floor, where Rainbow Dash had a shaky grip on her back hind leg, stretching it forward in cruel contortions.
“Ow!”
Vapor Trail and Soarin had just arrived in the locker room. In unison, they came to an abrupt halt, when the rank scent of sweat and blood hit them head-on.
Rainbow glanced up at them from the bench, wiping her forehead with a rag.
“Oh, hey,” she grunted, while writhing in agony.
“My head’s still a little foggy from last night, but I’m pretty sure Doc said to let that heal,” Soarin said, bluntly, trotting over to his locker. Vapor Trail followed suit, climbing out of her jumpsuit.
“I know what he said,” Rainbow snapped, grunting in pain as she readjusted her leg. The bruise on her leg was still visible, even after a week since the accident. “But I’ve got to be back in action by tomorrow. Can’t exactly wait around for a miracle.”
“The miracle was you surviving,” came Vapor Trail, “Forget the games, Rainbow. You’ve gotta take it easy. You might make it worse.”
“Not happening,” Rainbow rebuked, “The team’s counting on me. And all my friends already made the trip over here. I can’t let them down.”
Soarin shut his locker door, before chomping down on a sour green apple.
“Your funeral, Crash,” he laughed, “C’mon. It’s OK to sit this one out, it’s not a crazy big deal, y’know.”
Rainbow glared at him.
She eased up the tension on her leg, and sighed.
“Do you guys remember that last exhibition at Baltimare?”
“Sure. Fleet’s wing got stuck in the roller. I was laughing about it this morning, actually, D’ya remember the sound she was making?”
“Not that,” Rainbow said, shaking her head while Vapor Trail contained her giggling, “I finished fifth in my heat. I lost to the Baltimare Rec ponies!”
“So?”
“So, they used to never come close to me! Now, I could barely keep up!”
“No kidding. I wonder what those Baltimare ponies get fed.”
“It’s not just Baltimare. I can’t hit the same times anymore, you’ve all seen it. I get the wind knocked out of me, and-”
“You spin out of control, and almost get yourself killed,” Vapor Trail concluded.
Rainbow nodded, glancing at her bruised leg.
“We’re all getting older, Rainbow,” Soarin said, shrugging, “Can’t stay on top forever. Keep your head up. I won’t stop you if you try to race tomorrow. But the next time you have an accident, you might get less lucky than just a hit to the leg.”
Soarin trotted out of the locker room with Vapor Trail, while Rainbow remained on the bench.
She let out a string of curses under her breath, forced herself to her legs, and scooped up her bag.
Between sea-stained marble pillars, across broken battlements of limestone, hordes of ponies had drawn up together in the thousands, wading through pink clouds of sea-salt, sugar, and alcohol.
Messara Island, once a derelict ruin of antiquity, had undergone a metamorphosis, now a bustling festival city of music, color, and delectable treats from near and far. Flags of royal purple, icy blue and sandstone orange billowed by the causeways and storied heights, overhead where ponies trotted through marketplace delights and hazy tufts of lavender fog.
The ruins rose above steep cliffs that ran straight into the sea, whose wrathful tides splashed and scored the rock with feral ferocity. The arena itself, the centerpiece of the ruins, had required major reconstruction to provide for a proper sporting event. A field of grass had been planted in its center, surrounded by a rubber track, with each of its lanes colored pink, gold, red, and green.
The Association had taken a risk with the choice of location; the island was previously uninhabited and over one-hundred miles off the mainland. But that risk had paid off, with tickets having completely sold out, earning a packed stadium of over 75,000 creatures.
And one of those creatures, still exhausted after an early outing at the beach, still parched after hours spent wandering the festival, was particularly anxious to rush past the arena gates, as the midday crowd of ponies filed into the disorderly queue at a snail’s pace.
“Hurry up!”
Scootaloo darted through the crowd, careful not to let go of Sweetie Belle’s hoof. In turn, Sweetie was meant to hold onto Apple Bloom, and together they had weaved their way through the crammed cluster of creatures.
“Slow down!” Sweetie Belle squeaked, nearly losing her grip over Apple Bloom, who was busy apologizing to each and every creature they had bumped into.
“We’re gonna miss it!” Scootaloo cried, clawing her way through the pack.
There were dark bags sagging under Scootaloo’s eyes. Sleep was hard to come by these days, with the excitement having snowballed with each passing hour, each tedious moment before the first blow of the whistle, the first cry of the horn, the first shot of the gun. To bear witness to the Equestria Games was an honor that she did not take lightly.
A ticket and the price of travel cost her 3,200 bits, and three months of hard labor. Her aunts had insisted she earn the bits herself, a challenge that Scootaloo had stubbornly accepted.
She had considered asking Rainbow Dash for some help, though Rainbow had been so preoccupied with training, she was rarely able to spend much time in Ponyville any longer.
Slipping out of the crowd in a huff, stumbling and landing square on her face, Scootaloo was the first to emerge before the proper line to the arena gate. Apple Bloom fell out beside her, and Sweetie Belle came next, gingerly prancing out from the crowd.
“Do you two always have to make a scene?” she groaned.
Apple Bloom beamed and rose up beside Sweetie, while Scootaloo took her time picking herself up to her hooves.
Sweetie gasped, noticing a sandy scratch on Apple Bloom’s foreleg.
“Oh my stars! We have to get you to a hospital now!”
“Don’t freak. Watch this,” Apple Bloom cautioned, before hacking up some spit to rub into the wound.
Sweetie’s jaw dropped in despair.
“Agh!” she choked in disgust, while Apple Bloom snickered away.
They both noticed Scootaloo, whose eyes were still locked on the colosseum ahead, mesmerized by its sheer size. She may have never seen a thing so big. It was not of this world, she believed, rather some piece of forgotten lore, some divine seat of power, some celestial vessel of impossibility.
Towering statues of ancient gods stood on great stone pedestals on either side of the gate. The left, the stallion, was shaped with a coarse beard and eyes that pierced, his horn pointing to the east. And on the right, the mare, a pegasus with an angel’s wings, and a river-current mane flowing right back into the stone.
“Hey, Scootaloo, anypony home?” Apple Bloom smiled, knocking on Scootaloo’s skull.
“My mom and dad visited this place once,” Scootaloo murmured, still fixated on the grandeur of the arena, “They never said anything about all this…”
“Better to have seen for yourself anyway,” Sweetie said, ushering Scootaloo to march up in the line.
Apple Bloom reached the ticket booth first, checking her shoulder to make sure Scootaloo wasn’t still daydreaming, and Sweetie Belle wasn’t still examining herself in her portable mirror.
“...You didn’t forget the snacks, did you?” Sweetie asked, nudging Scootaloo in the side while Apple Bloom began chatting up the ticket pony.
Scootaloo’s eyes widened.
“Scootaloo,” Sweetie said, her eyes widening in fear.
“I thought you had them!” Scootaloo cried.
“Scootaloo! I’m gonna-” Sweetie began, before Apple Bloom grabbed her by the hoof.
“I’ve got the snacks. Jeez. You two need to relax!” Apple Bloom laughed.
They skirted up a short flight of stairs to reach the stadium seats. The arena was packed to the brim, ponies sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, theri chatter amounting to a thunderous rumbling that seemed to shake the ground.
The turnout was twice as much as the last games Scootaloo had attended. And below in the field, were the competitors, working through drills and setting up tents to escape the blistering summer sun.
“Scoots, c’mon!” Apple Bloom called, realizing Scootaloo was still lingering behind, her head swiveling all about, overwhelmed by the scope of the scene.
“Are you alright?” Sweetie asked, as soon as Scootaloo could rejoin them.
“I’m just a little on edge, is all,” Scootaloo said, following the others through the gate, “...I mean, y’know, in her past three races, Rainbow Dash’s time in the exchange zone has been an average of two seconds slower! They’re gonna take her off anchor, I know it! And who’s gonna take her place? Fleetfoot? Thunderlane? What a joke! Have I even mentioned how badly Spitfire is running the Wonderbolts into the ground?!”
“Only about thirty times a day,” Sweetie rolled her eyes.
“Actually this’ll make thirty-two, ah reckon,” Apple Bloom said, counting off in her head.
“I’m just saying, it’s only a matter of time before - oh my gosh! Mr. Hothoof! Mrs. Whistles!”
Darting up two rows in the arena, Scootaloo practically leapt into the lap of Windy Whistles, who promptly spilled half of her popcorn.
“Hey kiddo!” bellowed Bow Hothoof, roughing up Scootaloo’s mane with his hoof. Windy was too excited to form any words, shrieking in excitement as she squeezed the air out of Scootaloo’s lungs.
Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle joined them nearby, waiting for Windy and Bow to finish fussing over Scootaloo, for nearly three minutes straight.
“We’re so happy you were able to make it!” Windy exclaimed, “Good heavens! We should’ve brought you with us! We just got so distracted!”
“Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Whistles,” Scootaloo laughed, “Rainbow’s gonna do great!”
Windy had practically burst into tears, and hugged Scootaloo again.
“Stay out of trouble, now, OK?” came Bow, leaning in for a very formal hoofshake. Scootaloo giggled and nodded her head, before scampering off to join her friends.
They continued up the steps, up and up and up until Scootaloo felt like fainting. The stairs were seemingly unending, or at least until the glimmering gold railing of the royal pavilion revealed itself in the sun’s glare.
“There they are!” came a voice from above, the bearer of whom was obscured in the blinding sunlight. Apple Bloom recognized the voice without hesitation, as that of her own sister.
“Hey, sis,” Apple Bloom grunted, exhausted after the fatal climb up the stairs.
Applejack had jogged down the steps to inspect the three of them, and she didn’t take long to notice the scratch on Apple Bloom’s foreleg.
“I’m fine,” Apple Bloom said, before Applejack could even open her mouth.
Scootaloo felt the blood rush faster through her veins, as she caught up to Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, closer to the very top of the stadium seats.
“Sweetie Bell!” exclaimed Rarity, with her hoof clasped over her mouth, “I was just about to phone the police! What could possibly have kept you so long!?”
Rarity flew down the steps beside Applejack, both of whom were glaring down at the trio with contempt.
Sweetie Belle turned back at Scootaloo.
“It was my fault. Sorry,” Sweetie said.
“No, it was mostly my fault,” Scootaloo interjected.
They glanced at Apple Bloom, who already had her mouth stuffed with popcorn.
“Don’t look at me. It was your fault” Apple Bloom laughed.
Applejack shook her head.
“Don’t do that again. You had us worried,” Applejack said, wagging her hoof at each of them.
Up on the gold pavilion, Twilight Sparkle sat on a purple marble throne, beside her fellow guests of honor - Cadance, Shining Armor, Flurry Heart, Luna, and Celestia. They sat in a golden pavilion, beneath a velvet awning meant to spare them from the sun’s heart. Nearby, at the topmost seats, Fluttershy, Spike, and Pinkie sat together. Starlight Glimmer sat close by, along with Trixie, and the two of them were bickering nearby, caught in an intense argument over who had the better claim to the last crackerjack.
Practically bouncing up and down in excitement, Scootaloo eyes scanned the field below. They may have missed the opening ceremony, but she was just in time for the main event.
She analyzed the Wonderbolts’ area of the field, watching as they completed their warm-up routines. She couldn’t find Rainbow Dash among them, however, to her confusion. Was she hurt? Would she be able to race?
Then her eyes fell further down the field, and she saw a familiar face, one she had dreaded having to see again.
Lightning Dust.
The Washouts had grown since the motley trio she had first been introduced to, though she recognized their leader as clear as day. As often as she would keep track of Rainbow Dash’s progress, she kept an additional, less-discussed record of Lightning Dust, whose stuntwork exploits were still as alluring as they had always been. The danger may have been daunting from a distance, though Dust’s sheer recklessness and neglect for the rules was like a breath of fresh air at times, amidst the increasingly stagnant Wonderbolts arrangements.
Scootaloo’s eyes wandered back to Twilight Sparkle’s pavilion. Twilight herself was standing now, pouring a tall glass of champagne for Rarity, careful not to spill any in the wind.
There was another pony beside her, laughing and grinning and pouring the rest of the glasses. Scootaloo did not recognize him at first, a tall stallion with a wispy grey mane, thin beard, and bright green eyes. That was, until she heard his voice. She had seen him on the television before - the president of the Equestria Athletic Association, the architect of the newly-invented games. Forecheck.
“Highness, I trust everything is to your liking,” he cooed, dragging the last glass of champagne through the air in an aura of red magic. He planted the glass in Twilight’s lap, and waltzed around to her left side.
Twilight allowed herself to take a sip, taking a sigh into the high-rise breeze.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” Twilight admitted, her eyes fixed on the fields below, “I only worry what plans you have for next year. I’ll remind you that the treasury’s nearly bone-dry already, thanks to these games.”
“Perfection requires sacrifice,” Forecheck grinned, scurrying back to Twilight’s front, “I assure you, the costs will be paid back tenfold, once all our revenue is collected. I’ve pictured it already. Your throne might be remade in solid gold, beneath chandeliers of moonglass and jewels from the east. No Equestrian queen will ever have known such grandeur. This, I swear to you.”
“A lovely dream,” Twilight said, retreating into her chair, “I’ll be happy to enjoy the show for now. And perhaps we can worry about the finer details at a later time.”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Forecheck said, bowing, “Fortune awaits.”
Twilight smiled, weakly, hoping Forecheck would flee the pavilion and free up her view of the games.
Scootaloo watches the stallion skulk out into the sunlight, his plastered smile slipping off his face, his eyes darting wildly back and forth like a clock pendulum.
“...C’mon, I wanna get a closer look,” Scootaloo said, turning back to Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle.
“Sure,” Apple Bloom asked, rising out of her seat.
The three of them dashed back down the steps to the front railing, struggling to see over the edge.
Scootaloo had to stand on her hooves to see over the pony in front of her, scanning the field beyond.
She turned back to Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, too excited to choke out any words. However, her smile began to crumble when something caught her eye in the crowd.
A creature among the crowds, gun-metal grey in color with a night-black mane, and red eyes that glowed in the sunlight. Scootaloo had never seen such a species before, though she supposed such an event would include a variety of creatures whose origins eluded her. She found it a sad thing, that the creature stood by his lonesome.
Against her better judgment, she convinced herself to turn away, presuming that the creature was merely some foreign mystery. While she may have half-desired to interrogate the creature, or even befriend him, there happened to be more pressing matters at hand than a potential friendship mission.
Her eyes darted over to the clock.
Ten minutes to the race.
Lightning Dust glanced up at the sun, which had welded her suit to her skin, leaving little to the imagination. She might not have noticed or cared, if not for the occasional instance of her male teammates staring for too long.
“Hat Trick,” Lightning barked.
Hat Trick, the youngest member of the team, a bronze-colored stallion with a curly, reddish-bronze mane, adjusted his gaze, terrified of incurring Lightning’s wrath.
“Don’t get so easily distracted during the race,” Lightning warned, rolling her eyes.
The heat would prove an additional challenge, though Lightning had ensured the team would be supplied with ample ice water and cooling equipment.
“Strawberry, keep your back straight,” Lightning said, turning her attention back to the team’s warmups, “Or I’ll ring your head like a bell, got it?”
Strawberry Switchblade, the recruit in question, weakly managed a smile while maintaining her form.
“Loud and clear, boss,” Strawberry croaked.
A crack in the sky signaled the arrival of Rolling Thunder, met by an uproar of applause from the crowd. Short Fuse tailed after her, sparks of fire erupting in the air as he tumbled down to impact.
“Dusty!” Thunder exclaimed.
Lightning smiled and trotted up beside Thunder and Fuse, the latter of whom was already posing for the fans in the front rows of the arena.
“Never dreamed of flying for a crowd like this,” Rolling Thunder remarked, in awe of the stadium, “‘Spose we can’t make too much of a mess, or we won’t be invited back. Right?”
Short Fuse laughed, as did Lightning, who quickly regained her composure.
“Don’t get too distracted,” Lightning advised, “We came here to win.”
“You don’t gotta tell us twice,” Short Fuse grinned.
Rolling Thunder noticed Lightning’s smile slip, as her eyes drifted off to the crowd.
“Y’alright, mate?” Rolling asked, lightly punching Lightning in the shoulder, “You look a little green. Greener than usual, I mean.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” Lightning said, dismissively.
Rolling Thunder glanced at Short Fuse, hesitantly.
“Look, er, I know things have been tense a little lately,” Rolling Thunder said, “And maybe it’s none of our business, but…If y’need to talk about anything, about your folks, or anything at all, you can-”
Lightning glared at her.
“Focus on the race. Not on me,” Lightning said, “I don’t need either of you to worry about me. We’re here to do a job. Forget about everything else, and let’s get this done.”
Rolling Thunder glanced at Short Fuse, and the both of them reluctantly nodded their heads.
Lightning’s relief was short-lived, however, when she felt a shift in the air from behind her.
“What’d you know? The circus really is in town,” boomed a new voice from behind them,
Lightning Dust slowly swiveled her head, catching sight of the new arrivals touching ground on the field just a few yards away.
Lightning straightened herself up, and shut her gaping mouth before any of them could tell she had been caught off guard.
Sky Stinger, Fleetfoot, Thunderlane, Misty Fly, Surprise, and Rainbow Dash descended to the grass, clad in their spotless blue uniforms.
The other Washouts left their equipment to join Lightning, while the crowd began to rumble in anticipation.
“Thought it was better to pay you a visit before you end up in a full body cast this time,” Fleetfoot snickered, “Lightning Dust and her team of rejects. It’s even sadder than I thought it’d be. You can play at racing all you like. But you'll never ever be the best of the best.”
Short Fuse began to twitch.
“I liked you better the last time we met, Lightning,” Thunderlane smirked, “Back when you still had some fight left in you.”
Lightning could feel her heart race, and forced herself to avoid meeting Thunderlane’s eyes, while he laughed and laughed. She could feel her stomach churn, and her hairs begin to stand tall.
“Now you’ve got a little freakshow to make you feel better about yourself. Y’know, there might be a mistake. The Special Equestria Games are still a month away,” Thunderlane laughed.
Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes at Thunderlane’s remark, while the rest of the Wonderbolts broke into a fit of laughter. Lightning could only sigh, unimpressed.
“Don’t know who would want to be a Wonderbolt, with ponies like you wearing the uniform,” Rolling Thunder scowled, “A dainty bunch of has-beens afraid to get their hooves dirty. Stick to your boring old airshows, it’s all you know how to do.”
“What kind of sorry excuse for fliers are any of you even supposed to be?!” roared Short Fuse, “If your racing is as pathetic as your trash talk, we’ve got nothing to worry about!”
“Stop,” Lightning said, sticking her hoof over Short Fuse’s mouth before he could release anymore of his rage, “There’s no time for this, we’ve got warm-ups.”
Lightning turned to lead the rest of the Washouts back to their equipment, while Thunderlane’s smirk sharpened.
“Good luck, Lightning, I know you don’t want to mess this up. Your dad’s up there watching, right?” he grinned, pointing to the sky.
Lightning froze, as did the rest of the Washouts.
She turned back to the Wonderbolts, and marched four steps up to Thunderlane.
The six of them became alert, despite Lightning approaching them by herself.
Her eyes were locked onto Thunderlane, who seemed delighted to have earned Lightning’s ire.
“I’ll see you all at the race,” Lightning said, her voice thin like a razor, “I hope you’re still smiling then.”
Thunderlane scoffed, trying his best to hide the fact he was slightly disturbed by the madness swirling in Lightning’s eyes.
“C’mon, guys, let’s leave ‘em to it,” Fleetfoot snickered, spreading her wings, “They need all the practice they can get.”
The Wonderbolts all took flight and left Lightning where she was. All of them, with the exception of Rainbow Dash, who found her hooves were still stuck on the ground.
Lightning glanced at Rainbow, struggling to keep from lashing out.
“I, uh-...He shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry,” Rainbow said, weakly.
“Get out of here, Rainbow Dash,” Lightning spat, “Your friends are waiting for you.”
Rainbow opened her mouth to fire back, but decided against it, sighing and taking flight.
Lightning turned back to the others, who were all staring at her.
She realized her face was bright red, and tears had formed in the corners of her eyes.
“What are you all looking at?” Lightning barked, wiping her eyes before any of them could speak up, “I never said you could take a break! C’mon, all of you, get back to it!”
The Washouts all lingered for a few moments, watching Lightning’s face continue twisting in anger. But they all gave in eventually; despite their concern for their captain, they had a greater fear of earning her wrath.
The team dispersed, leaving Lightning to sigh again and glance back across the field where the Wonderbolts had made camp. They took up a full quarter of the space.
Lightning narrowed her eyes. If she had any doubts before, they were long gone.
She was getting some payback.
Rainbow Dash tightened the band around her knee, buckling against the turf with trembling legs. The wicked glare of the sun had set the field ablaze, and to merely brush up against anything metal meant suffering a scathing wound. She was sweating buckets, her soaked Wonderbolt suit now half-translucent and twice as heavy as normal. Her cutie mark was partially visible through the lining of the suit, where her suit clung to her skin like fly paper. Her teammates were in a similar situation, taking turns dousing themselves with ice water and wet towels.
They were approaching the sixth hour of the game. With each race, the team’s morale seemed to crumble into smaller and smaller pieces, with every new loss against the Washouts. Soarin had managed to grab a second-place title behind Rolling Thunder, the best anypony could manage. Even that spunky little stallion Short Fuse had dusted all of his Wonderbolt opponents.
And, to Rainbow’s horror, the greatest obstacle to her team’s hope of victory was Lightning Dust herself. Her former wingpony had outraced the Wonderbolts at every turn. She was not only plainly quicker than the competition, but also utilized a strange set of flying positions, transitions, starts, finishes, and so on. Rainbow recalled having heard of such methods, and that they were strongly discouraged at the Wonderbolt Academy, on account of the risk of accident.
Six hours. For six hours, nopony could touch her. But that was about to change.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Soarin was lying on his back, still out-of-breath from his most recent race. Vapor Trail was sitting on a metal bench nearby, picking at her suit and fanning herself off in the heat.
“The 1200 is in twenty minutes,” Rainbow said, repeating what the stadium announcer had earlier revealed, “It’s the last race. I’m subbing in,” She tossed a sweaty towel over top of Soarin’s head, right as he sat himself up.
“You’re serious?” he asked, incredulously.
“Forget about your comeback tour, Rainbow,” Vapor grunted, “Even if you weren’t crippled, we’ve got no chance against that Washout friend of yours.”
Rainbow narrowed her eyes.
“We’ve finally been knocked down a peg, and you all just want to give up?” Rainbow stammered.
“No,” Soarin said, leaning against the bench as he struggled to stand up to his hooves, “One of us will race. Not you.”
“I’m the only one who can beat her,” Rainbow insisted, “We’re losing this anyway, right? What does it matter?”
“Because you’re hurt,” Soarin said, sternly, “It’s not worth the risk, just to stick it to a second-rate rival.”
Rainbow Dash scoffed.
“It’s not about that,” she said, “All of Equestria is watching. Do you really want them to think that we can’t win a single race against the Washouts?”
Soarin shook his head, too exhausted to argue.
“Y’know what? Knock yourself out. One more loss won’t hurt, right?” he laughed.
Vapor Trail stood up beside him, biting her lip in dismay.
“Rainbow…this is a bad idea. Your leg, you shouldn’t be-”
Rainbow stuck her hoof over Vapor’s lips.
“You can scold me after I win the race.”
Vapor couldn’t help but smile, although she had trouble believing in Rainbow’s optimism.
“Final call for the 1200 meter flight,” came the echoey voice of the stadium announcer.
Rainbow glanced over at Soarin, who at last gave a sigh of defeat.
“Spits is gonna kill you.”
“Then make sure to bury me with my medal,” Rainbow said, before spreading her wings.
Soarin laughed and gave a withered salute, watching as she ascended up into the air.
He glanced at Vapor Trail, whose smile began to fade.
Standing on the tips of her hooves, Scootaloo could just barely grasp a glimpse of the field, over the frontmost brick edge of the arena seating.
She could spot Lightning Dust down below, stretching by the start line, as the minutes before the final race dwindled.
Despite her irritation with the Wonderbolts’ management, she was still distraught to bear witness to the slaughter. It was a disaster, put bluntly, one that had the added misfortune of being broadcasted worldwide. It was as if the Washouts had meticulously studied the exact flying style of each Wonderbolt, and learned to exploit their weaknesses. Whatever their strategy, there was no doubt the Washouts had earned the right results.
Naturally, a part of her wanted to despise Lightning Dust, the pony solely responsible for the Wonderbolts’ crash and burn. But she found herself in begrudging admiration, for the pegasus who had been discounted, demeaned, exiled. If a pony like that could end up flying in the Equestria Games, then maybe anypony could. And the thought gave Scootaloo comfort, albeit bittersweet, knowing that her own hero had to take second place for such a dream to be realized.
And where was Rainbow Dash, anyways? The games were nearly over, and she had yet to make an appearance. If there was ever a time for an emergency rescue, it was already overdue.
Down below by the racetrack, Lightning Dust hacked up a wad of phlegm, shooting it out her snout into the grass.
The other racers all stuck together on the opposite side of the track, glaring at her between sips of water.
Lightning had kept her victory celebrations to a minimum, and had encouraged her team to do the same. She had insisted they remain professional, in spite of the thrill they were all experiencing, walking off with twenty-two medals already. She felt no need to relish in it. The results would speak for themselves. That’s how it always should have been, she reminded herself. If the Wonderbolts really understood that, she’d be flying with them right now.
Lightning shook her head, scolding herself. No matter how far she came, that old sting of failure seemed to creep up on her, tying her down to a rock slowly sinking deeper into a sea of regret. She might have been able to keep herself afloat for a while, but gravity always prevailed.
“There she is, sitting by herself,” came a voice from up in the air.
Lightning’s skin began to crawl, and she scampered up to her hooves, like a cornered animal on the run.
Him.
Thunderlane descended down in front of her. Lightning did not typically feel conscious of her height, except for when Thunderlane was near her. He seemed to tower over her, his neck lurching forward like a bird of prey.
“Some things never change,” he smiled.
“What do you want?” Lightning managed, struggling to keep her voice from cracking. She was inching to dart away, though some stupid sense of pride kept her where she was. They’re watching, she thought to herself, Everypony is watching.
“They saved the best for last,” Thunderlane grinned, “You’ve been making quite the fool out of my friends.”
“They do that by themselves,” Lightning said, narrowing her eyes.
“The race doesn’t matter so much to me,” he said, glancing around at the packed stadium with contempt, “They wanted a show, and you gave it to them.”
He took a step closer toward her.
“But I’m more interested in what you want.”
Lightning crossed her hind legs. She couldn’t move, as her throat began to close up and sweat blinded her in one eye.
“Stop,” Lightning replied, though it came only as a whisper. Her eyes fell to the ground, meekly, as she stumbled backwards.
“Lightning,” he said, lifting her head up by her chin.
Lightning perked up as the calling of her name, shuddering at his touch.
She opened her mouth to speak, but was paralyzed. He held her hoof in his, and held her captive to his gaze. Lightning felt filthy then, sweaty and dirty and pathetic, the longer she looked at his eyes, the longer she let him hold her. No, she thought, Let go. Everypony's watching. Please let go.
He moved closer towards her, and Lightning snapped out of the trance, discovering the strength to pull away.
“I said stop,” Lightning said, swatting his hoof away.
Thunderlane laughed, finding some charm in her stubbornness.
“Come back,” he beckoned, “I never got to-”
Lightning turned around, in time to see another pony touchdown between them.
“Oh, great,” Thunderlane said, rolling his eyes.
Lightning narrowed her eyes, confused.
“What are you doing here?” Lightning demanded.
Rainbow Dash brushed her mane out of her eyes, ignoring Lightning. She turned to Thunderlane, who had a half-grin stuck on his face. Rainbow glanced at him, warily. There was a hot hunger in his eyes, and conversely, Lightning was blushing like a schoolgirl, her eyes cast down to the ground.
“I’m subbing in for Misty. Told her to take the day off," Rainbow said.
Thunderlane glared at her in disbelief.
“I thought your leg was busted,” Thunderlane reminded. Lightning’s ear perked up.
“Not bad enough to keep me away. Consider yourself lucky,” Rainbow smirked.
Thunderlane glanced over her shoulder back to Lightning.
“See you at the finish line,” Thunderlane said. Lightning winced, avoiding his gaze.
Thunderlane turned and trotted off past Rainbow for some last-minute warm-ups. He eyed her, unsure whether she was making the right call. He opted not to argue, however.
Rainbow turned around to face Lightning, who seemed confused as to what was happening.
“Uh…Are you OK?” Rainbow asked. Lightning appeared to be on the verge of tears.
“What? No, I-” Lightning sputtered, struggling to collect herself, “...What are you doing, Rainbow Dash? This isn’t your race.”
“Change of plans,” Rainbow shrugged, “What’s the matter? Nervous?”
Lightning scoffed and sniffed up some snot, amused by Rainbow’s challenge.
“I just spent the whole day putting your team six-feet-under. What exactly have I got to be nervous about?”
“That your streak is about to be cut short,” Rainbow grinned, "Y'know, I won't lie. You put on a good show. You always have. But risking your life, breaking the rules, at the end of the day it's the only way you'll make it close to what you could've had as a Wonderbolt. That's what the Washouts are. A lousy Plan-B."
Lightning frowned and turned red again. Rainbow hesitated, and may have felt regret over being too harsh, though she held her ground.
"You put my friends' lives at risk," Rainbow said, taking an aggressive step towards Lightning, "You put Scootaloo's life at risk. I won't ever forget that."
"I never asked you to forget it," Lightning muttered in reply.
Rainbow eyed her.
"I never meant to hurt your friends. You know I didn't," Lightning sighed, "And Scootaloo, too. I wanted to get back at you, but...I should never have gone that far. OK? Happy? Nopony actually got hurt, except me. You love to pretend you're some hero, but you were fine looking the other way when my life fell apart. So stop holding the past over my head all the time."
Rainbow took a step closer toward her.
"I never wanted us to be enemies," Rainbow said, "But you've crossed one too many lines, Lightning Dust. You brought everything on yourself, and you might've done worse if I didn't try to hold you accountable. I'm never going to let you put ponies in danger again, and I've got a hard time giving you any benefit of the doubt, not after everything you've done."
"I've got an entire team whose lives I put in danger," Lightning laughed, "The same team who's beaten the Wonderbolts at every race."
"There's still one race left," Rainbow reminded, "Sorry to knock you off your pedestal, but I'm about to put your string of luck to an end and show all these ponies what a real flyer looks like."
Lightning sighed, and struggled to keep herself from smiling.
“In your dreams, Dash.”
The bells began to ring, as if punctuating Lightning’s final barb. The two remained locked in a fiery stare, and they could each recall a sense of urgency, of desperation, of finality that had eluded them for years on end. Nopony else in the world could bring out such rage and courage from either of the two. To be reunited meant putting everything they had back on the table.
There were six of them lined up on the track, its shiny white paint already scuffed with hoofprints and dirt. Rainbow and Thunderlane were stuck in the first and second lanes respectively. A half-measure at evening the odds, Lightning suspected. The closer lanes may have been of higher preference, though Lightning was hardly concerned.
She allowed her Washout teammate, Madcap, to occupy the closer lane. Madcap, a lavender mare with a wavy mane of blues and greens and a pair of wild eyes, was one of the younger recruits on the team, and as such Lightning thought it unnecessary to burden her with any extra distance to cover. Racing against the likes of Rainbow Dash was a challenge in and of itself.
“Ms. Dust, I’m serious,” Madcap whispered, shuddering in fear while the racers anxiously waited for the officials to be situated. Lightning had told the girl to stop calling her Ms. Dust forty times already, but the girl's memory rarely prevailed. “I can’t!" Madcap said, "That’s Rainbow Dash. You didn’t say anything about Rainbow Dash!”
Lightning took a deep breath, forcing herself to collect her own scattered state of mind before attempting to console her teammate.
Lightning swiveled Madcap towards her by the shoulders, and waited for Madcap to muster up the courage to make eye contact.
“Don’t think about what they do. Or what I do, for that matter. Don’t waste a second thinking of anypony’s race other than your own.”
“But, Ms. Dust! I-”
“I’m right here with you. This is what we practiced for, right?” Lightning said, forcing herself to smile. She jostled Madcap by her shoulders, forcing her to break a smile.
“...Right.”
“Now get yourself together. Show everypony what you’re made of.”
“Yes ma’am,” Madcap replied, nodding her head, "Thank you ma'am."
“Racers!” boomed the loudspeaker, sending a shiver down Madcap’s spine, “On your mark!”
Lightning Dust perked up, while the crowds all rose to their hooves, setting down their food and drink. Foals had climbed on their parents’ heads for a better view, and in the front row, ponies began to cluster in dense droves, wrestling with each other for an ideal vantage point.
Scootaloo could hardly stand still, bouncing up and down, leaning across the edge of the railing. The scores didn’t matter. The heat didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing except the race.
“What kept her so long?” Sweetie Belle wondered aloud, finishing off her vanilla ice cream cone. Scootaloo had been wondering the same, watching as Rainbow Dash waited patiently behind the starting line.
Scootaloo’s eyes darted between Rainbow and Lightning. She had never seen the two of them go head-to-head, and consequently she was not sure what to expect. Of course, she was inclined to side with Rainbow, however considering Lightning’s unprecedented winning streak, her confidence had begun to quiver.
Up above in the top row of the arena, atop the gold pavilion, Twilight Sparkle had finally finished her popcorn. She snickered to herself, shocked that she alone was the last princess standing. Cadance had just left with Shining Armor and Flurry Heart, the latter of whom had trouble sitting in one place for too long. Celestia and Luna, meanwhile, had remarkable trouble holding their liquor, despite how much of a hobby they had made it during retirement. Twilight glanced at the arena clock tower, and realized it had been over an hour since the two of them had stumbled off to clean themselves up.
“Spike,” Twilight beckoned. Spike was begrudged to answer, consumed with anticipation for the race.
“Can it wait ten minutes?” Spike muttered.
“Spike.”
“Sorry,” Spike grumbled, spinning around to stand at attention.
“Go find Celestia and Luna. I don’t like the idea of them wandering around and getting lost.”
“Twilight, I think they can take care of themselves,” Spike said, desperate for a worthy excuse.
“Not in their…er, present condition. Don’t dawdle.”
Spike cried out in despair, but complied, scampering off to complete the task.
Just as Spike escaped down the pavilion steps, Rarity came strutting in, followed by Pinkie, Fluttershy, and Applejack.
“This heat is criminal,” Rarity groaned, “Tell me, why couldn’t you or Celestia do something about that wretched sun?”
“All the weather ponies are down there, racing or spectating,” Twilight deduced.
Twilight cast an aura of magic, dragging some of the extra chairs beside her for her friends.
“There she is!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed, pointing down at the track.
“For a second I thought she wouldn’t show,” Applejack said.
“I don’t know if I can watch,” Fluttershy murmured.
Twilight noticed Forecheck leaning near the edge of the pavilion. She had not heard him enter.
Her ears perked up, with the first sound of the horns. Beastly, roaring things they were, like some nuclear alarm or cavalry cry. With each blast of the horns, the crowd gradually fell silent, until there was little to be heard above a low murmur.
On the track, Rainbow Dash felt the ache in her leg intensify, as she fixed her hoof-placement and aligned her eyes with the lines.
She glanced to her left, and caught Lightning Dust’s glare. Lightning left her with only a scowl and a bitter gaze, leaving Rainbow to smile and scoff it off.
Rainbow glanced to her right as well, to Thunderlane, who seemed suspiciously relaxed, laughing and waving to the crowd. Rainbow glared at him with contempt, before settling back on her own thoughts. If he was to treat this like a joke, then it was clear that Rainbow alone truly represented the Wonderbolts, or rather, what the Wonderbolts were supposed to be. She would not let them down. She would not let herself down.
“Racers!” came the loudspeaker again. The voice came three times as loud, against a nearly-silent crowd, “Ready!”
Rainbow narrowed her eyes, glancing briefly at her hooves, at the lines, at the crowd, at the air in front of her. Three laps was all it was. Ten seconds on the first lap. Twelve on the second. Ten again on the last. That was the plan. That was always the plan. Except…that wasn’t good enough. It was obvious to her that Lightning Dust had studied the Wonderbolts’ strategies, rigorously, at that. If Rainbow was to win, if she was to do this right, she would have to try something different.
“Rainbow Dash!”
Rainbow felt the color drain from her face. She knew that voice.
Spitfire was storming down the field toward the track, shoving ponies out of her way.
“Rainbow Dash! Get off that track immediately! You’re not fit to-”
Spitfire’s voice had already begun to slip away, when the first crackle and pop of the loudspeaker microphone graced Rainbow’s ears.
Rainbow fixed her hooves one last time and centered herself, waiting for the signal, waiting for the mildest hint of alarm. Her muscles were tender, tense, desperate for the start.
From a great high-reaching white-wooden chair near the starting line, an official gave a wave of his hoof to one of the linesponies, whose horn promptly ignited.
His horn glowed, a spectacular shade of white, like a star fallen to earth, held there in a steady grasp.
The crowd’s breath all seemed to give out at once, as they watched and waited eagerly.
Then the rush came, first before the sound even hit anypony’s ears.
The linespony’s aura burst into a pure white fire, booming loud enough to send a shock through a good half of the crowd.
Rainbow lifted off her hooves with her wings spread, and broke out into a low glide, propelling herself forward to build momentum.
Lightning Dust had done the same, though did not have to twist as hard off the start; she had a longer while before the curve of the track became relevant.
The crowd erupted, cheering and roaring while the racers’ glide quickly picked up into a sprint, faster and faster with each thin flutter of the wings, until each racer resembled little more than a blur.
Time was of a strange substance at such speeds; the noise of the crowd became distorted, and the lines of the track seemed to wobble and move.
The first lap proceeded just as Lightning Dust had expected. The eight racers were all within near-distant stride, with the exception of Thunderlane, who had begun to sink back. By his own design, Lightning figured. He never took anything seriously.
Not now, Lightning scolded herself.
Most of the racers were left exhausted after just the first lap, having futilely attempted to make pace with Lightning and Rainbow.
Lightning noticed Madcap begin to slip behind, and considered slowing her own pace, until she noticed Rainbow Dash and three of the other racers still on her heels.
Lightning gritted her teeth and picked up speed, twisting harder on the turns. She refused to enter a closer lane, despite it being allowed at this point.
She could hear the other racers’ breath, heavy and drenched and desperate.
Lightning was not keen on counting her times in her head, though by sheer intuition, she supposed the second lap was approaching ten seconds. Why was Rainbow still so close? Maybe she’s catching on, Lightning thought. Or maybe she’s getting sloppy.
Either way, Lightning embraced the challenge. She had been holding the lead since the start, though Rainbow happened to prefer it that way. Rainbow was not straining for space, not quite yet. The adrenaline had blocked out the ache in her leg, and her heart was beating so fast, she wondered if it might leap right out of her chest. Rainbow hoped to appear weak enough to feed into Lightning’s overconfidence, while simultaneously keeping a close distance, not allowing too much room for a breakout getaway.
Lightning could not pinpoint Rainbow’s motives; such a task was a waste of precious time, after all. Madcap was gone, sinking fast in the clouds of dust. Thunderlane might as well have just started, for how far behind he was.
Rainbow had kept pace the entire way into the third lap, and now it was only the two of them left in the front.
The crowd was loud enough now to shake the very foundations of the arena. Rainbow had begun to close in, it appeared, inch by inch the gap began to shrink.
Lightning winced, her twists and turns beginning to feel stale. Rainbow was not thrown at all. She wasn’t distracted, or confused, or intimidated. Was this even a challenge for her? Thunderlane had said she was hurt. She didn’t look hurt.
Lightning felt her heart race faster. Too fast. She couldn’t stop herself now, even if she wanted to. She could feel the flesh on her face tighten from the impact of the high wind-speed, and specks of ash slip off her coat, from where sparks of fire began to strike.
Halfway through the lap, Rainbow was right beside her. Lightning felt her eyes sink in her sockets. This was the fastest she could go. This was the fastest anypony alive could go. Everything she had, every muscle pounding and wrenching and tearing itself apart just to gain another inch. Her wings would soon be ground down to the bare cartilage, with such intense pressures.
But right there beside her, Rainbow Dash flew the same race. No, not anymore. Had she gained another inch? Lightning could go no further. But Rainbow climbed and climbed.
Rainbow, throughout the race, had felt a strange sense of delight, a euphoric radiance of determination that seemed to mask whatever physical ailments her friends had been so worried about. Her only affliction was the unthinkable possibility of failure.
She had the lead. She had the lead, and she would not be losing it. She could go faster, faster, and faster still. Lightning Dust, meanwhile, was not going anywhere new, not even as she strained and gasped and tore through the air with a furious stride.
Rainbow had an eye for the finish line. The crowds’ cheers were no longer distorted. She heard them loud and clear. Chanting her name. She could see Twilight and her friends, she could see her parents, she could see Scootaloo.
The record would show, there was one pony who could beat the Washouts.
She wasn’t past her prime. She wasn’t a has-been. Nopony could tell her as much, not after this. Her great race was not yet run.
Then she felt something else. Something unfamiliar. Something sharp, something cold, something from inside.
The smile on her face began to fade, and the world began to spin, to the left and around, over and around, as the colors all began to mash together, as the sounds began to pull each other apart. The pain grew sharper, and sharper, until the world faded away completely, a black curtain slipping over her eyes.
Lightning Dust caught a glimpse of the collision, as Rainbow spiraled out of her lane, crashing straight into the dirt on the edge of the track, shredding off skin as she went.
Lightning’s breath gave out; the sound of the impact was enough cause for concern. She only saw it for a moment, a blue blur veering off the track in front of her. Rainbow. Lightning grinded to a halt, trying to turn and drift down to a slower speed, but her efforts were all in vain. Her speed was too great by then, and within the span of a second, she had already barreled across the finish line.
Lightning slowed down and collapsed on the track; her legs were too exhausted to support her. She had done it. That was all she could think, all she could register.
Dad and Mom and Pixie and everypony in the whole world would see. They would hear about what she had done. The pony who defeated the Wonderbolts. She had imagined such a victory to feel more triumphant. But there was a hollowness that remained as it was, unmoving. This was what she wanted. Why didn’t she feel any different?
Dad’s not here.
Lightning lowered her head, as her muscles burned in agony.
None of them are here.
It was Madcap who crossed the finish line next, and Lightning Dust turned in relief, glad to have somepony else to fret over, a welcomed distraction.
Clawing through the blurry patches of black, the roaring of the crowd inched its way through her ears, reaving and raging. They were all on their hooves, half-stuck over the edge of the railings, barking at the wind.
Drunk on delirium, Rainbow Dash opened her eyes to find the world as a thick veil of fog, masked in shadow. She had gone blind, she thought. She had hit her head so hard, her eyes had popped right out of her skull. No, no, that wasn’t right. The image was returning, slowly, coming into focus with a shaky, trembling twist. The pain revealed itself unexpectedly; the disorientation had distracted her at first. There might have been splinters in her skull, if it hadn’t been cracked open like an egg.
The sky, as she saw it through the shifting patterns of static, had turned to a more nebulous shade of grey. Just a moment ago the sun had been shining, as it had all day. How many hours had she suffered in the dark? Or perhaps what she was seeing was not even real, a strange illusion.
The crowd was only a muffled droning, and it felt as though her ears were flooded. With blood, perhaps, though she was in no state to think much on the matter.
Against the grey skies, a blurry face popped into frame - the spiky shocks of orange meant it had to be Spitfire.
“Dash! Dash! Hey! Wake up! Dash!” Spitfire wailed, propping Rainbow’s head up on a wound-up towel.
Soarin, Vapor Trail, Fleetfoot, and the entirety of the Wonderbolt team had flown to the scene, taking care not to surround Rainbow too closely, and to allow space for the paramedics.
Thunderlane had come up on the growing crowd, now blocking the track. He slowed to a stop, gasping for breath while trying to deduce what had happened.
Ahead at the finish line, Lightning Dust collected herself, and stuck her foreleg on Madcap’s shoulder.
“Thatta girl,” Lightning smiled, between gasps for breath. Madcap sunk into Lightning's arms, laughing between her breaths.
Lightning had meant to usher Madcap back to the Washouts’ warm-up area, until discovering the entirety of the Washouts team had come to them already.
“Look at this pair of drongos! Way to bring it home!” Rolling Thunder beamed, rushing Lightning for an embrace.
Lightning shrunk in Rolling Thunder’s grasp, uncomfortable with such unrestrained show of affection. Short Fuse was on top of her as well without much delay, as was the rest of the team, all laughing and hollering out in celebration.
Lightning remained silent while the rest of the team broke out into a rowdy explosion. But, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the crowd of ponies fixed on the track further back.
Rainbow?
Lightning felt her throat close up, and she quickly freed herself from the clump.
"....Wait," Lightning murmured.
The Washouts’ cries of celebrations simmered down as soon as Lightning broke off, sauntering off toward the scene back down the track. The crowd too, seemed to have calmed down, murmuring in discomfort, unable to catch sight of Rainbow through the huddle of paramedics.
The other nine Washouts began to follow after Lightning, glancing at each other with wariness.
Lightning came as close as she could to the scene, and felt her skin turn pale, as the rush of the race escaped her at last.
Fleetfoot was the first to notice Lightning, and was quick to alert her teammates.
Lightning’s attention was focused only on where Rainbow was lying on the track, and she was caught by surprise when Fleetfoot marched right up to her.
Behind Fleetfoot came Soarin and Vapor Trail, Sky Stinger and Surprise and the majority of the team.
Too enraged to speak, Fleetfoot glared directly at Lightning, with eyes that accused.
You almost got her killed was written on her face, while more and more Wonderbolts began to follow up around her, approaching like a pack of wolves toward wounded prey.
Lightning was too stunned to defend herself, still too exhausted to even think properly.
Soarin and Vapor Trail had joined the growing crowd of Wonderbolts, glancing at each other with uncertainty.
Lightning flinched, her eyes darting between each of them. They were all staring directly at her, eyes burning bright with hatred. Lightning could hardly keep herself together; her body was so sore she could hardly keep her weight on any one leg for too long. Her neck was strained, and the nausea in her gut had begun to increase in pressure, rising up toward her chest.
Lightning sighed, silently, while the Wonderbolts remained as they were, watching her every move, trembling in anticipation.
Lightning glanced behind her, catching the eye of Rolling Thunder, who, along with the rest of the Washouts, had stuck themselves right behind her.
Lightning glanced back to Fleetfoot, and the hints of a smirk began to form around her lips. Her eyes briefly traced the crowd of Wonderbolts, dismissively, and perhaps almost amused.
“So much for the best of the best.”
The noise of the crowd had subsided, and the last inhale of air through Fleetfoot’s nose was the last thing Lightning could make out, before a hoof landed right across her face, knocking her right off her hooves.
Lightning fell to her knees, semi-conscious, as the Washouts behind her immediately sprung to action.
Over the railing, the crowd had erupted, rising to their hooves to watch the two sides clash into one another, tearing at each other’s suits, scratching and clawing and kicking and swinging. Broken bones, blistering bruises and splashes of blood were masked behind clouds of dust, loose teeth, and torn strands of hair.
Lightning pawed at the fresh bruise on her face, as her vision began to resettle. She staggered up to her hooves, dizzily searching around for any of her teammates.
She found Short Fuse just in time to save him from a punch to the skull.
The crowd was the loudest they had been all day, watching as the racers pummeled each other into the ground.
Up on the golden pavilion, Twilight Sparkle rose from her seat, frantically watching as the fields below became a battleground.
“I have to get down there,” Twilight said aloud. Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy, and Pinkie were already at her side, eager to check on Rainbow’s condition.
She made for the exit of the pavilion, only to find Forecheck blocking her path.
“Your grace,” he said, his voice trembling, “It’s much too dangerous!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Twilight said, ignoring him and making for the pavilion steps.
“Your grace, please,” Forecheck said, terrified.
Twilight continued past him, desperate to reach Rainbow without any delay.
But she had not made it far, when a sharp, searing shock made contact with her left shoulder.
Twilight cried out in surprise, thrown off her hooves over the pavilion edge.
“Twilight!” screeched Pinkie Pie, darting off after her.
“What in the-” Applejack began, scanning the pavilion for the source of the attack.
Her answer came when a trio of creatures revealed themselves from around the pavilion’s rear, blocking the exit on either side.
Two were like pegasi, nearly, with blood-red wings. Only, they were not a pegasus’ wings, or a griffin’s or hippogriff or anything Applejack had seen before. They resembled something more of a fruit bat, of a vampire. And the third was a burly thing, a pony with a black deformities, a pair of spider-like black pincers along his jaw, and three pairs of purple serpent’s eyes.
Twilight lay unconscious by the steps of the pavilion, near where the serpent-eyed pony stood.
Pinkie Pie slowly retreated away from Twilight and back toward Applejack, Rarity, Forecheck, and Fluttershy.
“What have you done?” Rarity demanded, hesitantly sticking herself beside Applejack in front of the others, “I dare say, if this is some kind of joke, I should have you know, we are not-”
Rarity never got the chance to reply, when the serpent-eyed pony ignited his horn.
In a flash of light, the ground was graced with three more bodies. Applejack, Rarity, and Fluttershy had all collapsed, just meters away from where Twilight had been overtaken.
Forecheck remained standing, glaring at the serpent-eyed pony with staunch conviction.
“Gorgo,” Forecheck said, “You idiot. This was not the plan.”
Gorgo growled in response, while the bloodbat ponies began dragging the four bodies into a neat pile at the center of the pavilion.
“We needed all four princesses together,” Forecheck barked.
“They’ve already been taken care of,” Gorgo confirmed, “All we need left is our Wonderbolt.”
Forecheck sighed, shaking his head in regret.
“That won’t be possible. Not now. Look down there, tell me what you see. She’s injured, surrounded by tens of thousands. Every broadcast in Equestria has their eyes on her, at this very moment. To take action now would require a public spectacle. This was supposed to be covert.”
“No going back now,” Gorgo said, glancing down at Twilight and the others, “We brought back-up for a reason, no?”
Forecheck grabbed at his jaw, frantically deliberating on a plan.
“You two,” Gorgo said, turning to the two bloodbat ponies, “Give the signal.”
Forecheck narrowed his eyes, while Gorgo began to grin.
“Listen to me. Our choice is to either come back short,” Gorgo said, “Or we get what we came for, with a little extra on the side.”
“We’re not ready, it can’t be done.”
“We are ready,” Gorgo insisted, “We cannot wait any longer. We have to act now.”
The two bloodbat ponies stood by the pavilion steps, waiting for Forecheck’s leave.
He glared at Gorgo, furiously.
“If we fail. It will be both of our heads.”
Gorgo smiled, and gave the nod to the two bloodbat ponies.
“We have to do something!”
Scootaloo leaned over the edge of the railing, watching the brawl below with eyes wide with terror.
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom spectated the chaos, unsure what to do.
“I’ve got to make sure Rainbow’s alright!” Scootaloo exclaimed.
“Scoots, I’m sure she’s fine,” Apple Bloom insisted, “If we go down there, we’ll get our faces stomped in!”
Scootaloo glared at Apple Bloom, and then over to Sweetie Belle, who backed away from the railing. Sweetie appeared paler than normal, and the violence on display seemed to have rattled her into silence.
Scootaloo growled some curses under her breath before turning back to the railing.
“Suit yourselves.”
Scootaloo had a grip of the railing before either of her friends could properly react.
“Scootaloo, wait!” Apple Bloom yelled, dashing to grab a hold of Scootaloo.
But Scootaloo was quicker, swinging herself over the railing. Sweetie Belle shrieked, as Scootaloo disappeared over the edge.
Apple Bloom felt her heart skip a beat, slowly leaning over the edge.
Scootaloo had just landed after a ten-feet drop, groaning as she picked herself off the rubber track.
“Are you alright?” Apple Bloom yelled.
Scootaloo groaned something resembling a ‘yes,’ staggering up to her hooves.
“I’m adding that to the list of the dumbest things you’ve ever done!” Apple Bloom barked, shaking her head.
“We’ll have enough for a novel, soon,” Sweetie said, turning away from the edge to calm herself down.
Scootaloo managed to stand up straight, shaking away the bells circling her head. The impact of the fall had shaken her guts and rattled her bones, though she had suffered no serious injury, as far as she could tell.
She had gone unnoticed by the track officials, who were busy attempting to break up the brawl further up on the track.
She had meant to spring off after Rainbow Dash, before she tripped over her own hooves, landing face first on the track.
Apple Bloom may have wanted to crack another remark, if she hadn’t also toppled off her hooves onto the ground. Sweetie Belle had suffered the same, as had almost everypony in the stadium. The earth itself had begun to move, a furious quake and shiver. Dust fell in heavy clouds from the edges of the stadium, where the rocks had all shifted in their stead or begun to collapse. On the grass, roots had begun to reveal themselves, splitting up from the dirt. The island itself was tearing itself apart, throwing its ponies from side to side, sliding down the stadium rows, falling into each other, hanging on for dear life.
Scootaloo felt nauseous, unable to lift herself off the ground while the earth continued to shake like mad. The vibration was so intense, she felt a dense pressure pushing down on her, locking her against the scorched rubber track. She grunted in agony, terrified of being unable to move.
The quake had begun to subside before long, however, and Scootaloo could finally manage to lift her head up off the track.
She saw black smoke billowing out from somewhere else on the island, visible from over the tip of the colosseum.
She lifted herself to her hooves, as the sounds of ponies screaming and groaning began to double in decibel. Further on the track, the Wonderbolts and Washouts all struggled up to their hooves, and had come to an unspoken standstill, too disoriented to fight any longer.
Then came the humming of flapping wings, roaring like the low growl of some gargantuan beast, crooning and creeping and surrounding the stadium on all sides.
Scootaloo’s mouth hung open in despair, as the light of the sun began to wither, as the sky began to move.
A hundred or more, there had to be. Hovering like vultures, descending together in strange formations. Blood-red in color, or gun-metal grey, or black like the night. They came in ferocious tides, winding and weaving toward the ground like a living twister. Scootaloo narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the specks and spots, trying to gauge how soon to start running.
Then she recognized the red eyes that glowed, pairs of them that decorated the sky like hellborne stars.
She spun around toward the stadium, struggling to see over the edge where she had jumped from.
“Apple Bloom! Sweetie Belle!” Scootaloo screeched, only to receive no answer.
The sound of ponies screaming shot down at her from all sides, as ponies began fleeing toward the stadium exits in droves, while the army of flying devils was en route. Few ponies had the stomach to run far, limited to limping leaps and panicked jogs. The exits soon became flooded with ponies, barricaded inside the tunnel where the doors remained shut and locked.
From the pavilion, Forecheck watched on with a shaky hoof pawing at his jaw. Of course, the doors had been the first order of business. Nopony could be allowed to leave.
Below, Scootaloo at last mustered up the courage to dart off toward where Rainbow Dash was.
Rainbow Dash had just recently found herself able to stand up without any support, as the sharp pain in her head continued to die down.
Spitfire was close beside her, relieved that Rainbow appeared to be in serviceable condition.
Rainbow had meant to offer some gratitude, only for Spitfire to disappear from in front of her, in the span of a mere blink.
Rainbow’s jaw dropped, glancing up in time to see the black blur drag Spitfire up into the sky.
“Rainbow!” yelled out Fleetfoot, who had just flown over to the scene, “Where’d Spits go?”
“She-” Rainbow began, until Fleetfoot’s legs flailed up in the air, and a familiar black blur had a grip on her neck. Rainbow was quicker this time, jumping over to reach Fleetfoot. But she was too late; Fleetfoot had been dragged up into the air, yelping in shock as the air slipped out of her lungs.
Rainbow glanced around her, watching as the black figures descended from the air, dipping down and back up like insects, snatching unsuspecting ponies with creeping hooves. The screams of the crowd grew and grew, as the hundred-or-more army of creatures picked them off, lifting them up into the sky. They flew off with their captives, past the edge of the colosseum, and, within a short while, had promptly returned to continue their assault.
Rainbow’s eyes shot up toward the golden pavilion where Twilight had been. But she did not see Twilight, only the Association president, who seemed strangely calm about the whole situation, watching the stadium fly into a frenzy from his storied perch.
Rainbow blinked in rapid succession, hoping she was not experiencing some grim hallucination. Across the track, she saw officials and racers fleeing toward the exits, as more of the creatures began to descend upon the stadium.
Twilight must have been taken already, Rainbow supposed. The rest of her friends as well, probably. She could try following after them, she thought, fly after the snatchers and rescue her friends. Only, she had little idea what kind of threat this happened to be; such a plan may very well be suicide, or at the very least a sure way to end up captured like the rest.
Her decision was made without her input, ultimately, when a pair of black hooves had a grip on her shoulders. Rainbow yelped, before she felt her hooves be lifted off the ground.
The speed of the creature sent her into mild whiplash, as its hooves shifted towards her throat, suffocating her as they flew together up into the air.
Rainbow had enough strength left to resist the urge to black out, glaring up at the creature, hunting for some vulnerability. The creature itself was a horned pony with a coat of black. He had eyes that glowed ruby-red, and a pair of bloodbat’s wings.
Rainbow grunted in exhaustion, before lunging for the creature’s wings. She grabbed at one, throwing the creature off balance. He cried out in pain, as a tendon of his left wing began to bend and blister beneath Rainbow’s grip.
His grip fell apart over her throat, and Rainbow promptly planted a kick directly to his gut, successfully breaking free.
She caught herself in the air, springing her battered, bruised wings.
She was far enough up now to grasp a better glimpse of where the creatures had flown off to. Over the bay, sitting in the bitter blue waters, there lay a proud black ship, made for war. Its hull was thick and sharp with spiky battlements. The ship stood tall like a floating castle, or a nest of hornets.
Rainbow turned her attention back down to the stadium, and shakily glided back down toward the ground.
Her landing was more of a crash, tumbling back down into the rubber track, right near where the brawl had first broken out.
Most of the Wonderbolts and Washouts seem to have vanished.
Scootaloo had endured the onslaught, struggling to hold back tears as she cowered by the edge of the stadium wall. The screams from above kept her petrified, as she frantically scanned the sky. The creatures flew in precise movements, never once colliding into each other, despite their numbers.
Further ahead on the track, Lightning Dust had never precisely stopped fighting; though her opponents had abruptly shifted from the Wonderbolts to these strange hell-spawn creatures.
Rolling Thunder was at her side, swinging madly as a cluster of the creatures began to draw down upon them.
“They got Short Fuse,” Rolling said, weakly.
Lightning gritted her teeth.
“When we get the chance, we all fly back to the apartment, we barricade ourselves in there until we’re clear to fly off this island,” Lightning said, deciding on the plan right there on the spot.
“Sounds like a-” Rolling began, before the words fell trapped in the back of her throat.
Lightning glanced over her shoulder, just in time to see Rolling Thunder be dragged up into the sky, cursing into the wind.
“Rolling!” Lightning yelled, spreading her wings to try and fly after her.
But she found herself tethered to earth, when a pair of creatures below had a grip on her hind leg.
She fell to the ground in a heap, as the creatures behind her rushed to hold her down.
Lightning frantically kicked the closest one away, and jumped up to her hooves. She swung her hoof into one of the creature’s stomach, sending him spinning around to the ground. She kicked him square across the face, knocking him out cold.
Lightning bent down beside him. He wore a dark steel helmet, obscuring part of his face. He was shorter than the majority of his companions, and a bit stout as well.
Lightning grabbed him by his throat and dragged him along with her, limping off toward one of the ground exits.
Nearby, Scootaloo desperately searched for a possible escape route, as more and more ponies were plucked off into the air.
On the other side of the track, she spotted an open gate, surrounded by royal guards wielding spears and swords, escorting what few survivors.
Gasping in relief, Scootaloo worked up the courage to free herself from the faux protection of the wall, sprinting off toward the gate.
She did not make it far.
One of the creatures already on the ground had directed his attention toward her, standing up straight.
Scootaloo came to a halt, before backing up in her tracks, as the snarling creature began his pursuit.
Scootaloo shrieked, and shut her eyes.
But the strike never came, and, after an anxious few seconds, Scootaloo opened her eyes, only to find Rainbow Dash standing there. She had her hoof on the creature’s neck, pressing down until the creature succumbed and went under.
“Are you alright?” Rainbow stammered, wiping a sprinkle of blood off her face.
Scootaloo frantically nodded her head, while Rainbow bent down in front of her.
“We’ve gotta go, OK?” Rainbow whispered.
“Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, we can’t l-”
Rainbow shook her head.
“They’re gone, Scoots, now we’ve got to go, got it?”
Scootaloo noticed the blood on Rainbow’s face, her eyes widening in shock.
“It’s not mine! it’s OK,” Rainbow assured, before standing up to her hooves.
She picked up Scootaloo with her forelegs, and bolted off from the track.
Clearing the length of the field in five seconds flat, Rainbow came to a stop in front of the dozen-or-so soldiers who had managed to arrive on the scene in time.
“Where the heck have you guys been?” Rainbow demanded.
“We were delayed,” one soldier explained.
“Rainbow,” came Scootaloo, grabbing at her side.
Rainbow glanced down, and followed Scootaloo’s hoof over toward the field.
There was Lightning Dust, stumbling backwards, fending off a growing horde of the creatures.
Rainbow’s eyes fell to the ground, and she noticed Scootaloo’s pleading stare.
“We can’t just leave her.”
Rainbow’s eyes darted back toward the field.
Lightning Dust still had one hoof on the throat of her captive, dragging him through the dirt while she kicked back at the pursuing creatures. They carried a variety of weapons, attempting to prod and poke her.
A few had managed to make contact, slashing her suit, shredding her skin, sticking her full of holes. Her suit was soon stained crimson red, and her pace began to weaken, as she struggled to fight off their impressive numbers.
That was, until a prismatic blur came barreling out from behind her, slamming into the horde of creatures, knocking them off balance.
Rainbow Dash appeared beside Lightning Dust, who glared up at her rescuer with hatred.
“You can thank me later,” Rainbow smirked, extending a hoof for Lightning to grab onto.
Lightning scoffed and swatted away the offer, staggering up on her own.
“Let’s go” Lightning muttered, waiting for Rainbow to leave with her, returning toward the gate.
The ache in Scootaloo’s chest was alleviated somewhat, when she caught sight of both Rainbow and Lightning returning from the field.
“C’mon, Scoots, let’s get the heck out of here!” Rainbow yelled, passing by Scootaloo with Lightning half-resting on her foreleg.
But Scootaloo remained for a few lasting moments, glancing back at the field.
The creatures’ onslaught had not dissipated; if anything it had intensified.
While some ponies had managed to find an escape, the sheer speed and efficiency of the enemy had proved to be near-inescapable. Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, they were both gone, that was what Rainbow had said. Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie and Fluttershy, perhaps they had gotten out. They must have, they were with Twilight. Only, Twilight may have been the first to be taken. Cadance, Celestia, Luna, Starlight, perhaps all of them had. She would have thought there would be more resistance, otherwise, but the crowd remained sitting ducks, almost.
What a strange gift it was, to have gotten away. What a strange guilt it was, at that. One brave blunder had maybe saved her life.
Equestria was defenseless now, and her friends were all gone. But she could do no good waiting around here any longer.
Holding back tears, Scootaloo spun around and slipped between the wall of royal guards, following after Rainbow and Lightning.