He remembered it so vividly, sitting on his butt right on the tarmac. About a 100 feet away, lay his bike, wheels spinning uselessly in the air. There was a loud ringing in his ears, as the sound of the roaring crowd faded. His mind instantly replayed what had happened a few seconds earlier and he felt like kicking himself. He thought to himself, 'You twit! You had this in the bag! Nearly 30 seconds ahead of the pack on the final lap. Haven't put a foot wrong all weekend. But noooo!!! You just had to get cocky, squeeze the throttle too early and highside, didn't you?'
After mentally berating himself, he blinked a couple of times as a new thought filled his still ringing head. The bike didn't look too badly damaged, so maybe he could salvage something from the race. Slowly and gingerly, he picked himself up and took a step towards his stricken bike. Suddenly, his side exploded in excruciating pain, and the last thing he remembered was the feeling of weightlessness. Then his back smashed into something hard and he blacked out.
Suddenly, he woke up with a start, and it took a few moments to get his bearings. He was seated at a small table and had been leaning his head on the window of his mobile motorhome as it weaved in and out of traffic. They had just passed a snow-covered sign reading, "WELCOME! You are now entering Canterlot City!"
A familiar voice broke his thoughts, "Hey Slipstream, you okay? You look a little freaked out. Bad dream? I'm not judging, cause everyone gets that from time to time."
He turned towards a young woman in her early 20s, looking at him in concern. Slipstream shook his head and massaged his temples, "I'm fine, Countess. Just memories of that stupid crash. Gods above! I was such an idiot!"
Countess Coloratura took a seat across him and rolled her eyes, "Slipstream... How many times have I told you? Call me Rara."
He shot back, "Let's compromise! How about Boss? I mean... It was your idea to start a racing team and you approached me to be the team principal."
She tugged at her woollen sweater and shrugged, "What can I say... I've been a big fan of yours, and you have one of the best strategic minds. I still think you could have been a 2-time champion, if not for that crash, four years ago. In my mind, you were the perfect candidate for team principal. Now all we need is someone to ride the bike."
He steepled his fingers, "You mentioned an old friend of yours. Applejack, right? You think she's good enough to handle the bike?"
"If not her, then maybe she knows someone who can help. Any luck convincing the officials to allow us to field a second bike?"
Slipstream shook his head, "I'm afraid not. Firstly, all the slots are full, and secondly, I'm not sure if we have the budget for it. Remember... We're starting this team from scratch. I tried asking if we could bump up Hitch Trailblazer or Zipp Storm from 250cc, straight to 1000cc. Those two have the most potential, but the officials said that they didn't want to risk it, because they are too young and inexperienced."
Rara smiled, "I'm glad that you established that rider's academy last year. Who knows... Maybe some day one of them will be a future champion."
Suddenly, there was an odd sound that slowly faded in. Slipstream craned his head and saw a stunning-looking jet black Suzuki GSX-R1000, half a mile ahead them. It was getting closer and louder, before it rocketed past them, going in the other direction. He also could have sworn that he caught a glimpse of red as well. Rara stood up and pointed, "I see it! It's pulling into the driveway of that diner! Fetlock! Can you take a U-turn and head to that diner?"
One of Rara's backup dancers, was driving the motorhome, and he promptly obeyed. Two minutes later, they pulled into the driveway, and sure enough, the bike was there, sans the rider. Rara eyed him, "Do you want to handle it or do you want me to come too?"
He shifted a little in his seat, "I can handle it. Can you pass me my wheelchair?"
She dutifully wheeled it over to him and eased him onto the wheelchair. Then, she and Fetlock helped him down and he wheeled himself inside the diner. It was around 8 in the morning on Christmas Eve, so the diner was fairly empty, except for a teenager in a black leather jacket. She sported red hair and blonde vertical highlights, and had yellow skin. The girl was also hunched over the countertop and her shoulders were shaking.
Not wanting to come off like a creep, Slipstream rolled up and parked a couple of seats to her left before ordering an espresso. They stayed silent for a while and then he softly spoke, "Rough day, pal? Boyfriend broke up or you caught him with another girl? Gotta tell you, that sort of thing sucks, so close to Christmas."
The girl let out a strangled laugh, "N-no! I'm happily single. Its just... I had a big fight with my friends about Anon-A-Miss."
He stayed silent for a beat and then, "Right... I have no idea who that is."
She munched on a bagel and grunted, "Basically, someone set up a MyStable profile called Anon-A-Miss and started posting embarrassing secrets about the students. Starting with my friends. They all suspected me, because I used to be a big bully, but I've changed and they won't believe that I'm innocent!"
He gestured, "May I?"
She shrugged and he moved his wheelchair closer. The girl showed him her cell phone which was opened to this mysterious Anon-A-Miss page. Looking at the profile picture, it was red and gold. He murmured, "Well it kind of matches your color scheme, so I guess that's what prompted folks to point fingers."
The girl glared and he raised his arms in surrender, "Hey, I'm a neutral party in all this, kid. I'm just saying it like it is. I don't even know you."
She sighed, "Like I said, I used to be a bully. A real queen b***h. But I was subtle about it. Never made it look like I was the culprit."
Slipstream hummed, "Right... So this is a frame job and a sloppy one too. No offence to your school mates, but they're all morons."
An idea struck him, "Hey kid, I have an idea. Want to disappear for a while?"
The girl raised an eyebrow, "That your idea of a pickup line? Because it sucks."
Slipstream snorted, "Get your head out of the gutter, kid. Look, I'll admit that I have a thing for redheads, but you're too young for me. I'm 22, and you're what? 16?"
"Be turning 16 in a couple of months. Is that why you keep calling me, 'kid'? First off, my name is Sunset Shimmer."
He grinned, "Glad to put a name to the face! Call me Slipstream. Also, I have a job for you. That's why I was asking if you wanted to disappear for a while. Don't worry, we'll return you unharmed. Hopefully by then, these schoolmates of yours would have wised up or caught the culprits."
A small smile played on her lips, "You know... That sounds like a good idea. What do you have in mind?"
He glanced outside and gestured, "That your bike? She's a beauty! Ridden one myself and I love the way it handles."
Her smile grew wider, "Yeah... It's actually a guilty pleasure of mine. Also, I have a license, and my frien- former friends don't know about it."
Slipstream grinned, "You're fast too. Now... for the REAL reason why I'm here. I was a former motorcycle racer and did win a championship. But I'm now forcibly retired, for obvious reasons. Recently, I was approached to be the team principal for a brand new racing team. They're also on the hunt for a rider. That's where I'm hoping that you could factor in. We're willing to offer you a one-year contract."
Sunset was a little taken aback, "Wait... You want ME to race for you guys! Why me? I'm a girl?! I'll get my butt kicked!"
He snorted, "Sunset, I've known plenty of female racers, and they're not afraid to play with the big boys. Sure, they're all retired now, but you get my point."
The girl felt hope bloom in her chest, but then another thought struck her. She said, "Wait, what about school? I'll be away for a year. I've been a straight A student, and I'm not planning to repeat a year."
He smiled, "Ahh yes... I was wondering when we would address the elephant in the room. Tell you what, I'd like to meet your school principal and negotiate with her. Come on, I'll get some of our guys to load your bike into my motorhome. I'll also take you to meet the boss. She's the one who owns the team and is sponsoring us for now."
Slipstream paid for their meal and led Sunset back to the motorhome, while Fetlock and two others loaded her black Suzuki in the back. Inside, the former champion definitely enjoyed Sunset Shimmer's poleaxed expression at seeing Countess Coloratura. He entered behind Sunset and grinned, "Hey Boss! As you can tell, mission accomplished."
Sunset stammered, "C-c-c-Countess Coloratura?! What are you doing here?"
She had a wry smile, "Dramatic effect, mostly. Also, I own the team. Hey Sunset, haven't seen you in a while. How's Applejack?"
Slipstream left the two to talk while he wheeled up front to the driver's seat. He spoke, "Hey Fetlock, can you set the GPS to..."
Sunset hollered, "Canterlot High School!"
The burly man punched in the coordinates and the motorhome roared to life.