//------------------------------//
// 9 -  Danger Zone 
// Story: Top Wings 
// by Outlaw Quadrant 
//------------------------------//

“What’s taking her so long?”

For what seemed like days, Twilight was waiting for Pinkie by the restroom entrance. While the unicorn preferred the cool, shady corridors of the Speedway over the hot bleachers outside, she had trouble seeing the action on the track. Chicane may have provided constant updates, but his words painted an incomplete portrait, especially at the goings on near the rear of the field. The lap counter had hit sixty-five, with no yellow flags since Derpy’s short, backwards adventure around the track. Busy were the track workers operating the towering scoreboard, but one thing remained the same; Gilda, Gecks, and Goossens had a firm grip on the top three spots.

Finally, the eccentric pony exited the restroom, all covered in confetti. Behind, pop music echoed along with singing, and departing patrons wearing cone hats. Twilight had seen enough strange behavior that she could muster no more than dull surprise.

“Seriously, a party?”

Pinkie blew on a party favor. “Well, duh! Do you know how many in there had today as their birthday? Three, Twilight Three!” She grabbed onto her friend, and shook her. “And I didn’t even know! I’m slipping, Twilight! Slipping!”

The unicorn’s first thought was that she should berate Pinkie for selecting such a bizarre, inappropriate location for festivities. Yet, with Pinkie’s waterworks leaking, she needed consoling in the best way she knew how, using logic. “Now, now, Pinkie. Look all around you.” She pointed out the constant stream of spectators traversing the passageway. “There are so many here, not just from Equestria, but beyond. I know you’re trying your best, but nopony expects you to know everyone’s birthday. Besides, we just don’t have the time to—”

Suddenly, an invisible force took over Pinkie, making her hooves tremble, her tail twitch, and her face contort in a matter that spooked everyone surrounding her, all except for Twilight. This was no random action; it was a sign, one seen many times before in various forms. The question was whether it was a good or bad omen, and with Twilight’s mindset, she usually assumed the worst-case scenario.

“Uh, oh. What’s your Pinkie Sense telling you now?” Her eyes bulged at the possibilities. “Don’t tell me something horrible is going to happen with Rainbow or Swift? Do we have an imminent parasprite infestation? Is a big storm coming?”

Pinkie gave her friend a pat on the head. “No, silly. There’s gonna be an oopsie on the track soon.”

A hair follicle sprang from Twilight’s mane. “What type of oopsie? How soon is soon?”

“I don’t know. That’s all it told me.”

“Ughhh,” moaned the bookworm. “Ok, fine. In that case, we should head back to our seats.”

The two walked back into the open, and up the cloud stairs, a convenient but odd structure considering everyone else had wings at their disposal. They reached their friends, just as Chicane provided another update through the PA system.

“With seventy laps in the books, Gecks Lizaurus has switched with Gilda for the lead. Hermes Goossens remains in third.” The announcer jolted from his seat. “But here comes Rainbow Dash on the outside! She’s got about three wolves tucked in behind, helping her along as they go into Turn Three!”

On cue, the Crusaders raised their homemade sign up in the air, now with the correct letters. As Rainbow crossed their sights, her friends cheered her on, all except the falcon. He simply watched with his binoculars, shaking his head. Blaze had seen this same attempt twice before, and had little confidence that the third time would be a charm. At Turn One, his pessimism was validated, as two geese swerved onto Rainbow’s path. Wingtips collided, followed by a yelp from one of the wolves. Injured, he immediately fell behind, which halted the group’s momentum. Once they figured their speed had dropped off too much, they made a tactical retreat back to Lionheart and company, about two seconds behind the leaders.

“Darnit!” yelled Rainbow, venting in Wolfmacher’s direction. “What’s your squadron made of? Tissue paper?”

The wolf growled, displeased of the stinging but otherwise factual criticsm. What was once the formidable Flying Wolf Squadron, known for its stellar endurance, had lost much of its original effectiveness. He already had punished two members yesterday for insubordination, three failed to start the race because of a sudden flea problem, and the geese had banged up the rest to the point they could do nothing except draft behind him in fear.

“Useless, all of you!” Wolfmacher snapped at his subordinates. He started a tirade using a foreign dialect but Lionheart stopped him with a throaty growl.

“There is no need to belittle them!” said the humble griffon, raising his voice only because of the ambient noise. “Your squadron is certainly holding up better than those dishonorable birds!” He counted how many were trailing their leader, Goossens. “There’s only five of them! The others have fallen far behind us!”

Rainbow kept her slanted frown. “Like that’s really helping us! We still can’t take over the lead, especially when all we have left is these slow pelicans!”

“We’re strategically holding a steady pace!” McPecks retorted, not amused at the mare’s disparagement.

She ignored the bird. “Look! We’re obviously not going to get anywhere going at them a few at a time! Next lap, we’re all going in!”

That didn’t sit well with her allies, as they had tried it twenty laps ago, with almost disastrous results. With a flick of his delta wings, Gecks made the air swirl in a way that made them bunch up like an accordion. It was good fortune that the worst that happened was losing valuable track position, rather than crashing out altogether.

“Why should we?” said McPecks. He rubbed on his bill, making him flinch. “I’m still not over what happened last time!” His head turned back to the faraway fourth turn, where there was empty air for endless seconds. Just before it left his sight, three Wonderbolts appeared, followed by more competitors. “And we’re still way ahead of everyone else, and it’s too soon!”

Rainbow directed his attention forward, as they approached the Turn Two exit. The leaders were ready to head into the tunnel, while another group was already within its confines. “But look who’s way behind! If we don’t do something now, Swift and his group are gonna get lapped, and I’m not letting that happen, not if can help it! We’re going, and that’s final!”

She glinted at what was a grey dot off in the distance, too far away to communicate via mouth. Instead, Rainbow delved into her mind, hoping she could somehow give him encouragement.

Swift, hang in there just a little bit longer.  

At the same time, Swift’s head swiveled backwards, an action he’d been doing on every other lap. The view was becoming stagnant, five crows lined up surrounded by tall walls, with observations watching their every move. The only change was ten laps ago, when the troubling trio and their goons appeared in his rearview, and began inching closer every time he crossed the line. Once he could see their faces, any hopes that the pace was wearing them out disappeared. On his teammates, however, they became familiar with the taste of their own sweat, and their lungs ached as much as their wings. While Swift had helped them all he could with body positioning, breathing techniques, and providing his slipstream, their savior was not him, but something in the flagpony’s possession.

“We really need a caution!” said Thunderlane, tucked in behind Swift.

Swift reacted with an eye roll, miffed at what was becoming a broken record. “I know, I know! We would’ve been better off if those dragonflies we caught up to would’ve joined us! I told them they were going to get lapped, but—” A wing muscle suddenly throbbed, forcing him to swing his hoof. Exiting the last corner, the two stallions swapped spots with nary a loss in speed, but Swift’s trajectory went from straight to a subtle left drift.

“You okay, boss?” asked Thunderlane, noticing the deviation.

He recognized what was going on, and it was not a good sign. For those that knew, Swift’s left wing had been through things that made it a miracle that it was still in one piece. However, despite his grueling rehabilitation, the appendage never quite regained its original strength, so his body had a tendency to yaw left. He had mastered balancing the small difference in power, but by maintaining high speeds over a length of time, that gap grew, as the mended wing tired out faster than the good one. Just like everyone around him, he needed rest.

“I’ll be good!” Swift responded. “Right now, what we need is something drastic! Sure, we need a caution, but then we’ll have the crows to deal with! Knowing them, we might not survive the restart!”

Thunderlane rubbed his muzzle. “Hmmm, what if the crows are the caution?”

“Eh?”

He didn’t hear him, but Swift’s confused face said it all. “Just look at them! They’re all together, so all we need is for someone to crash right into them!”

Swift’s pupils shrank to the size of a pea, stunned that Thunderlane would propose such an idea, as did his teammates.

“You said drastic, Swift!”

That was true, but such action had two issues. One, it seemed a dirty tactic, something Swift wanted to avoid at all costs, but with his team on the edge of literally collapsing, and crows kicking in another gear, he could stomach such a move if it benefited his companions. The other problem was something he had to ask Thunderlane. “It might work, but who’s willing to crash themselves on purpose?”

“I’ll do it!” a feminine voice cried out.

“What?” Swift yelped. Behind the owl and bat was the pony that spoke out, gray, blonde mane, and a look that implied she was confused all the time. “Derpy? You?”

She rattled her head up and down, as Thunderlane gave Swift a wink.

“Don’t worry about it! She’s a pro at stuff like this!”

“A pro?” Swift wondered exactly what the qualifications would be to have that designation, but that was beside the point. There was one thing he had to ask her, so he drifted back for a quick one-on-one. “Derpy! Are you sure about this? No one’s pressuring you! I could think of something else!”

Again, another nod. “I just want to help! Please?”

Help, that was something she always offered, but hardly anypony accepted it. Swift himself had heard, and even bore witness to the often-disastrous results when Derpy entered the equation. Just looking into those misaligned eyes made him believe that she was well aware of that fact, but for once, calamity was exactly what this group needed. Then again, this being Derpy, she could somehow take her own teammates out, miss striking the crows and hit Rainbow’s squadron instead, or some other chaotic scenario that the wildest imagination could not come up with. This was high-stakes gambling, and he held the dice in his hand. After a deep breath, he bought some insurance, expensive insurance.

“Derpy, we owe ya! Next trip to Sugarcube’s on me!”

Fireworks exploded within Derpy’s eyes. “Woooo-hooooo!”

Tucking in her hooves, she rolled backwards like a bowling ball, frightening her teammates out of their formation. Swift recoiled, not expecting her to take off right away, while Thunderlane acted as though he was at the alley, watching the grey ball curve around the turn. For a second, it looked like a gutter, but then, Derpy swung right in the path of the lead crow, who slammed the brakes. Swift covered his eyes, just as his ears picked up a collective groan, a sound much louder than his surrounding group could make.

“Steeee-rikkkeee!” said Thundelane with a hoof pump.

Swift peeked through his hooves just as he crossed start-finish. A most wondrous sight, a yellow flag, waved above his head, while the leaders were no further than two cloud hoops away. Immediately, his attention turned downwards at what brought it out, five crows scattered across the clouds, uninjured, but knocked out cold, just like the lone pony who laid beside them.

“Derpy, no,” Swift stuttered.

She did an imitation of a jack-in-the box, a great one considering how the surrounding medical staff dropped their items. Derpy waved at him, and yelled, “I’m okay”, except he was too far away to hear her. However, another pegusus passing above could just fine.

“How in Equestria is she still…” Rainbow halted her sentence, as Derpy fell backwards for what seemed like a nap.

Wolfmacher gave Derpy a chest bump. “Sacrificing her body for the good of the team.”

“And at a good time as well,” added Lionheart. “We were just about to make our move, but I noticed Gecks watching our every move. I suspect he was planning something for us.”

The griffon’s presumption was correct. In fact, the lizard continued his observation with his frills opened partway.

“How disappointing.” He did a tsking sound. “They were lined up just right for my gust attack too.”

Gilda crossed her arms, chuckling. “Oh, you mean like that last one that you did? How about you do that on me, so I can blow-dry my feathers?” Her laughter intensified, while Goossens joined her mirth.

“That was just a test,” Gecks replied, unfazed by the mocking. “I’m capable of much more, but I’m waiting for just the right time.” Venom flowed into his eyes. “Oh, yes. The right time.”





“I’m afraid not.”

During the long caution period, Lionheart got approval from the track marshals to leave his spot to confer with those behind him. The griffon had talked with just about everyone, hoping at least one would join Rainbow’s group. All he got for his efforts was that the Wonderbolts promised they wouldn’t tussle with Rainbow’s group, but they had already been working with others around them.

“Darnit,” Rainbow muttered, her ears drooped. “Well, how about Swift and his group? With this yellow, do you think they’ll catch up to us now?”

The griffon hesitated on answering. “To tell you the truth, that… will be a mighty challenge for them.”

“I’ve sent some of my more injured wolves to the back,” Wolfmacher replied. “Maybe they will actually prove themselves useful for once, but for now, we should focus on this restart.”

Rainbow’s mind was still on the subject of her friend, safe, but still not by her side even after eighty-five laps. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much time to dwell on it, as her teammates waited for new orders. “All right. We’re splitting into two lines. Wolfmacher, his squadron, and I will be one. Lionheart, McPecks, and your pelicans are the other. We’re going to pass on both sides, but…” She slammed her hoofs together repeatedly for emphasis. “…only up to that blabber goose. Then we’re cutting them off and attack from there!”

“That’s assuming his geese won’t give us trouble again,” said McPecks.

“So says the one afraid of contact,” replied Wolfmacher, giving the pelican a smirk.

All the birds voiced their displeasure, but their leader calmed them down, as he had a perfect counterattack. “Your wolves can’t even handle contact,” he teased.

“What did you say?” grumbled the wolf.

Rainbow’s whistling broke their little squabble. “Cut it out, you two! The green flag’s just about to come out!”

The field bunched up together two-by-two around the speedway under the open, balmy skies. If the racers were working the hardest in this heat, the pegasus vendors were right behind, lugging around cumbersome, large containers up, down, and through endless rows of bleachers stuffed with patrons. One particular pony had resisted the cold liquid for many laps, but finally, her smuggled cider had turned a temperature too hot for her tongue. She parted with her hard-earned bits for a quench.

“Still too much ice,” Applejack griped, peeking under the lid. “I gotta say…” She waved herself with her Stetson. “…you gotta give it to ‘em racers. If it was this hot at the ranch, I’d be parkin’ myself under a tree.”

“But this weather appears to have been too much for some,” added Blaze. “I counted at least eight out of this race already, and we have yet to reach halfway. I worry about the attrition rate if there is another long run.”

Chicane’s voice resonated through the speakers, “Here comes the field through Turn Three, with Gilda alongside Gecks in Row 1! Green flag, and there goes the flag pony around once again!”

The field blasted away from Blaze’s vantage point, with Swift’s group being the last to disappear around the first turn. The deafening sound of wings decreased as the competitors reached Turn Two, but then spiked as the competitors entered the tunnel. Spike had the camera pointed at the exit, the plan to capture the moment Rainbow’s troops took over the lead for the first time, but the bulb flash captured something else.

“Oh, that lizard brain is still leading,” remarked Scootaloo, stomping her hoof, while the other two Crusaders booed.

“Patience, children” replied Blaze, nodding at the sight of two distinct lines whizzing past Turn Four. “You will see Rainbow lead soon.” In his mind, “If she is fortunate.”

Moments later, the CMC cheered, while Pinkie held up a crude sign depicting Swift making a pass on the track. His group had also separated into two lines, with him leading one, and Thunderlane heading the other. Both were going around the gargoyles, who tried shifting upwards for a block, but stopped once their leader realized it was too late. They allowed Swift and company to complete the pass, before hooking up to their rear, just like the sole green gargoyle that joined Swift’s team told them would happen. According to him, gargoyles only joined forces with those that could prove their mettle, and getting around them would do the trick.

The falcon celebrated the maneuvers with a polite clap, His optimism then crumbled the second he noticed the next pack ahead, three pigeons and five of Goossens’ injured fliers. He had marked down the former as neutral parties, although by the way the birds were working together, Blaze had his doubts. He waited a few laps, until Swift’s group finally got a whiff of their draft entering the first turn. By the time the falcon saw them again, the pigeons and geese were swerving all over the place, causing the field to scatter.

“Oh, something bad’s going to happen!” Fluttershy exclaimed, looking away from the action.

“Please, Fluttershy,” Rarity replied while waving a flower-designed fan. “You’ve been saying that every time… wahaha!”

Another caution flag flew, this time, for the winged wolves from Swift’s team shoving some geese into the Turn Four wall. When they bounced off, they took out the pigeons, and almost collided with a violet bat. Fortunately, Swift yanked him away from the chaos.

“Are you good, Echo?” the stallion asked the flying mammal.

Between breaths, “Yeah, that…” Echo clutched his chest. “…was close! Why did they… do that? I thought you… told them not to.”

Swift was already in the midst of a double facehoof. “I know, Echo. I know.”

Thunderlane gave his fellow stallion a friendly pat. “Chill, Swift. Those wolves knew what they were doing. Now we got less baddies to deal with.”

That only made Swift moan aloud, which came out muffled. The three wolves, even though they were injured, were a welcome addition to the group, as they were capable of leading the pack. Now, it was back to rotating between himself and Thunderlane, and his left wing had not gotten any better. When Lionheart checked in with him, he decided to let the griffon know about it.

“You sure you’re right, lad?” said Lionheart.

Swift flexed his rehabbed wing, “When I was saving Echo, it stiffened up a bit, so I had some trouble turning my body. Is that bad?”

While the noble bird was no doctor, he had met others in the past with the same problem. “Swift, it sounds like your wing muscles are cramping up. You’re going to need to be more careful, and whatever you do, you cannot push that left wing too much. If you put too much stress on it—”

“—I’ll stiffen up completely and I could spin out,” Swift interrupted, giving a nod. “I remember Blaze telling me that a long time ago.”

The PA system came on, informing all racers that the race would resume in two laps. That prompted a question Lionheart had asked both stallions during the last caution.

“Swift, Thunderlane. Will you go on helping this team, or will you go off your own to the front?” said the griffon.

Thunderlane flashed a nervous smile. “Like I told you earlier, I would if I was fast enough. Heck, Swift’s the main reason I’m not a lap down right now.”

Meanwhile, Swift gave his squadron a long, hard look. “Look, I told them I had their backs, so there’s no way I can just abandon them.”

That was the same answer as before, except Lionheart willfully failed to tell Rainbow that time, hoping at least Swift would’ve changed his mind if asked again. Lionheart hoped he could make him see his point of view. “I give you that, mate, but we’re already halfway through the race, and your group’s barely mid-pack.” He crossed his talons, releasing a long sigh. “I’m also afraid that Wolfmacher or McPecks may do something foolish, and get themselves banged up. Then, we’ll be in a real pickle, so I’d like someone more reliable helping the cause. Oh, and…” Sir Lionheart tapped his beak. “…Rainbow wanted me to give you that message, whatever that means.”

Swift had found himself torn between two obligations, one with his rainbow-mane friend, with the other being those flying behind him; another stallion, a bat, three owls, five gargoyles, and a mix of other creatures that only had wings as a commonality. All of them, though, could tell the stallion’s internal struggle based on how he pulled his light-blue moppy mane on his back. What he was trying to do was a daunting challenge, making progress through the field while his team, the one he cared about, only served as a heavy anchor. While his team understood that taking on the leadership role meant making some compromises for the good of the team, Swift may have made too many while getting too little in return.

“Tell her…” He touched his nose, but only once, and with his eyes lacking the charisma it once had.

“Right, mate.” Lionheart stayed a few more seconds, before leaving Swift behind with his troops. One of the owls, Hoots, raised his wing.

“Ahem. I’m not sure if I can speak for everyone else, but thanks to you, Thunderlane, and that googly-eyed pony, we’re doing much better than we could’ve hoped for.” Hoots felt more at ease with the agreeable nods around him. “If you want to—”

Swift waved him off, forcing the sides of his mouth up “Nah, nah, nah, Hoots!” I know where you’re headed, but no worries! I said I had your backs and I meant it! C’mon, we have the gargoyles hooking up with us, so now we should be okay, right?”





“About fifteen seconds behind,” said Spike, reading off a stopwatch.

Those around him moaned, disappointed that Swift and company were, once again, falling behind the leaders. While the splits were a massive improvement over earlier in the race, certainly good enough to stay on the lead lap, the number at the top of the scoreboard read one hundred thirty, and they had yet to pass anyone else on track. There had been only one brief caution since the wolves’ kamikaze attack, a hawk crashing into a cloud hoop. Other than that, the race resumed a similar pattern, a long green flag run in which the only notable action was on the platform. Every few circuits, a competitor would pull into it, raising the white flag for exhaustion or sudden injury. When Fleetfoot suddenly pulled in, the crowds wondered what the reason was.

“We’re hearing our polesitter has tweaked her wing!” Chicane informed the spectators. “According to my sources, she had the same problem yesterday right after that blistering qualifying run, but felt just fine this morning! I guess the Wonderbolt didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances, but that’s a real shame!” The broadcaster was ready to switch off his microphone when a goose also pulled off the track, wobbling his way toward a nurse until he collapsed on the platform’s edge. “Another one may be done for the day!” He checked his entry list. “I believe that’s one of Goossens’ teammates, Quackers!”

“Quackers?” blurted Pinkie, with a snorting laugh.

Twilight jumped up, as did Blaze. “Quackers?” both said.

Rarity shifted her body on the cloud bleacher, so that the falcon’s shadow served as a makeshift umbrella. “Ah, much better! So, who is this… Quackers fellow?”

Applebloom had the answer, thanks to Blaze handing over to the Crusaders the chart with all the competitors on it. “He is… the second fastest goose.”

Sweetie Bell added, “But he can tire himself out by pushing too hard. Since he’s out of the race that means—”

“—Rainbow Dash is going for the lead!” exclaimed Scootaloo, her wings propelling her one inch off the ground.

Indeed, her idol had pulled her team away from the larger pack, and was nearing the short tail of the trailing goose. Thanks to the loss of Quackers, the sweet fruit that was the lead position dropped to just within her reach. Once she was within a foot of the trailing bird in the middle of the first turn, her group split in two, with Rainbow taking the wolves outside, while the griffon and pelicans dove left. The spectators cheered them on, as they went through the misty tunnel, and back out, where Rainbow’s friends could see her make the charge. However, she had no time to wave at them, as Goossens’ troops swerved for some aggressive bumping. With a rallying cry, she returned the favor, pushing her competitor sideways.

“Careful, Rainbow!” Lionheart shouted over the wind noise.

He then found himself under attack, but instead of retaliation, pulled up to avoid them. McPecks chose to do the dirty work for the griffon, giving the bird a thwack with his webbed feet, while his fellow pelicans charged at the other geese, breaking the tidy formation from third place on back. Gecks, currently leading, chose to pull further ahead rather than fight, as did Gilda. Rainbow charged after them, but under the start-finish banner, Goossens blocked her path. She curved upwards, expecting the golden goose to shift in that direction. When it appeared he overcommitted, Rainbow hit the afterburners, with Wolfmacher in tow, both believing they could capitalize on the mistake by passing below before reaching the next cloud hoop.

Lionheart went max speed toward them, shouting, “No! It’s a trap!”

Too late.

With his golden-feathered wing, Goossens smacked her right in the face, sending her tumbling right into Wolfmacher. The griffon swerved, but the wolf crashed onto his side headfirst, pushing him right into padded clouds lining Turn One’s inside. Those that could see him gasped as Sir Lionheart ricocheted off the wall, and then tumbled out of control three times on the cloud layer, before stopping face down. The yellows flew right as Rainbow finally regained attitude control, but the moment she did, Rainbow reached behind her. The area between her wings had turned red and blue.

“Ow, that dirty goose,” she mumbled, rubbing her spine. “When I get my hooves on him…” Rainbow searched for her teammates, finding all but two ahead of her. Wolfmacher approached her, flying in a zigzag pattern while holding his head.

“Goossens…” Wolfmacher slurred. “…pot… pluck… dinner!” With a few head smacks, his mind sputtered back on. “Lionheart…” His paw pointed at Turn One, an area that from their location the Cloudiseum all but hid from sight. “Crashed into him. Not sure if—” The wolf couldn’t finish his thought, but Chicane was already on top of it.

“—got collected and he went right into the cloud barriers.” From the press box, he had the view of medical ponies lifting the griffon up, much to the delight of the crowd. “And he’s looks okay! He pushed for a safer track, and lo and behold, his persistence did him a favor!” A few seconds later, Chicane received an update from the medical staff. “They will run a few precautionary tests on Sir Lionheart on the platform, but it appears they will allow him to continue. He’ll likely stay on the lead lap, but will have to restart at the back of the field.” Chicane then began going through the current lineup, giving a pegasus spectator some heart palpitation.

“But what about Rainbow?” Fluttershy blustered, shaking the small dragon assistant. “Is she alright?” She then rattled Twilight. “How hurt is she? Should I go down there and check? Oh, maybe I should go!” She only flew an inch before a light-bluish hue held her tail.

“There’s no need for drastic measures,” replied Rarity. “See? She’s coming out of the tunnel now.”

With his binoculars, Blaze focused on Rainbow, who was flying alongside Wolfmacher, and two pegasus wearing medical garb. The shimmering sun made details impossible to make out, but the conversation seemed pleasant, until Rainbow began waving her hooves around as though she was upset. That apparently convinced the two ponies that she and the wolf didn’t need to pull off track for exams, as they left by themselves.

“I think she scared them off,” remarked Spike.

Swift came to the same conclusion, but that did little to settle his rattled nerves. Something had happened to Rainbow, and as he feared, he wasn’t around to help. He stared into space, while his body limped around the track, oblivious to Lionheart waving at him before pulling into the platform. He couldn’t think of anything other than feeling responsible to whatever harm came to his friend. Only now did he fully grasp what Rainbow had gone through when he got the gash on his forehead.

“You okay, buddy?” said Thunderlane, waving a hoof across Swift’s eyes.

The agile stallion had trouble keeping his head up. “I’m a great friend, aren’t I, Thunderlane?”

“Huh?”

“I told her I had her back, and then this happens. I should’ve—”

Thunderlane gave him a soft punch, “Hey, you don’t need to get yourself worked up. You can’t bail her out all the time. If you did, that would be a full time job.”

Swift couldn’t resist snorting a chuckle. “Yeah, I know. It’s just that I sorta have a… habit I probably picked up from my pop. He’s big and strong, always has been, and you know, he can’t help but protect those that need it, even if it puts him in heavy danger. My friends tell me I do that too.”

“Oh, just like how you saved me!” interrupted Echo.

“Gotcha, Echo,” He flexed his hooves, which made his face scrunch. “, but that was way tougher than I thought it would be.” Swift faced away from everyone, sighing. “I know Rainbow’s one tough pegasus, and she probably doesn’t need anyone watching her back, but I told her I’d be there,” He rubbed his mane, “But I can’t leave you guys hanging either. Why is this so hard? It’s obvious that you need me a lot more—”

Finally, one from his group had the courage to say what Swift needed to hear. “Just go, already!”

Swift turned around. “Eh?”

Another competitor spoke, “You said you had our backs, but we have yours too! We can watch after each other!”

One of the gargoyles moved to the front of the group. “This might be a race, but my clan believes in a fair race. I’ll see to it that no one harms this group.”

“Eh?” replied Swift, a pitch higher than before.

Hoots winked, “And someone has to replace Lionheart, right? You’re obviously the best one for the job.”

Appearing faster than expected was the griffon, albeit with a few less plumage on his wings. “You’re right, Hoots. I was lucky the doctors pulled off only a wee bit of my crushed feathers, but when I did a test run, I could already tell my speed’s not where it should be. Swift?” He gave him a salute, “You did a fine job here, but I believe I can take over from here for you.”

With those words, the shackles wrapped around Swift’s hooves unlocked. An unfamiliar feeling permeated through the stallion, a mixture of both joy and guilt. “Are… are you sure? I mean, with you here, we can pull everyone a lot—”

Lionheart held up his claw, “Maybe if we had the time, laddy, but we’ll only have…” He checked the tall pylon “… somewhere over sixty laps once we get going. If that falcon friend of yours is right about your skills, you can gain many positions on restarts. You don’t need to wait on us. We’ll find our way through the field.”

“Really? Well, I… um,” He wondered whether the heat was making him delusional, but no, his team had granted him what his heart desired, and they gave him no disparaging looks. If anything, they beamed as much as he did. “Thanks, everyone! I won’t let ya down!”

“I’m holding you to that, Swift,” Thunderlane replied, smirking. “I better see you beat Dash to the line, and who knows? I might be right behind ya.”

Victory, the subject hadn’t crossed Swift’s mind since the start of the race, but for the top three in the field, it was front and center. It was truer now, since their numbers had dwindled down to seven. Meanwhile, their main opposition might’ve lost Lionheart, but McPecks still had all four pelicans, Wolfmacher was down to three squadron members, and Rainbow made ten in total. Their chances for winning were heading in the wrong direction, and Gilda was visibly displeased about it.

“This is totally whack!” Gilda screeched in the lizard’s face. “We should be crushing all these lame-o’s by now!”

Gecks kept his frills closed, keeping his demeanor cool and calm. “Ssssimer down, Gilda. Such panic is premature. After all, I have yet to unleash my strongest gust attack in my arsenal. Once I find the best time to use it, then we’ll practically be gliding to the finish.”

Goossens delivered a long raspberry. “Of course! This attack that you keep mentioning, but haven’t used yet! I think you’re just blowing hot air! Oh, and by the way, you two have been leading the whole race! When will you acknowledge my aerial superiority and let me take charge?” He raised his head, as his subordinates quacked in approval.

“Not quite yet,” the lizard replied, waving his long, thin finger. “Be patient, Goossens. First, we must deal with these… pests that are following us.”

The goose gave him an eye roll, but Gecks ignored it, instead going into a discussion on race strategy. He didn’t want to hear any of it, knowing he was just a third wheel. Then again, being part of this alliance was a part of a scheme that he cooked up, one that he could only dish out when he felt it was a good time. Initially, he was going to wait until the late stages of the race, but his soldiers were hungry for action, and Goossens would deny them no longer. When he believed neither the griffon nor the lizard was looking his way, he made some strange motions with his wing, which garnered a subtle acknowledgment from his subordinates. However, Rainbow caught it right away.

“What in the world are they doing?” she whispered, covering her eyes from the afternoon sun.

“It’s a secret signal,” Wolfmacher replied. The moment he tried remembering what it meant, he rubbed his head. “If it wasn’t for this pestering headache—”

“It means get ready,” answered McPecks. He gave his throat pouch a good rub, “But what does that mean, and why tell them in secret?”

Rainbow pondered the same thing. “I don’t know, but something smells fishy.”

All the pelicans smacked their lips.

“Ugh, not that type of fish,” she corrected. “Anyways, we might want to wait a few laps before we try anything.” Rainbow arched her back, immediately making her face squirm. “Besides, I got to know what this back pain’s gonna cost me.”

As they crossed under the start/finish banner, she looked back, wondering whether Lionheart had indeed rejoined the track, but more importantly, where her friend’s position was. She could only see a small, grey blob with some blue on the top, but this was the closest she had seen Swift all day. A glance at the pylon confirmed his position, number thirty-seven restarting forty-second, but that was still quite a few rows away. Then again, he was much closer to two harriers, the laggards in what was the Wonderbolts’ loose, but friendly consortium of competitors. If Swift could only catch their draft, she thought, he might be able to climb up through the field, but in order to do that, he had to pass a number of racers including a flock he wasn’t too fond of.

“Why does it have to be seagulls?” Swift moaned, slapping his hoof on his forehead.

“Huh?” replied Thunderlane, now on his inside. “What wrong with seagulls?”

In reality, Swift’s issue with them was not really with the gulls on the track, but with their smaller, nonspeaking counterparts that roamed around Brayside Beach. They were noisy, thieves, litterers, ruined clouds for their amusement, and enjoyed pestering anyone that had wings. He sighed, hoping that these seagulls did not share the same traits. “Oh, nothing.” Swift rubbed off the warm moisture on his forehead. “Just remember, give me some space on the restart.”

“Ten-four, buddy!”

Swift turned his attention to the upcoming flag stand, where the flag pony mare’s once tidy mane was now a tangled mess. On her hoof, out of sight, was the all-important green flag, the signal for him to somehow pass three rows of competitors, blast by five seagulls, and catch a whiff of draft from the harriers, all within half a lap. Otherwise, everyone around him will be up to full speed, negating his accelerative advantage. Timing the boost was crucial, as he needed to make the first pass right after the line, or the track marshals would black-flag him for jumping the restart. What complicated everything was that he was less adept at blasting off when in motion, the surge in power often compromised his agility, and worst of all, he needed all his wing power at a time when trying to keep that in balance was becoming increasingly difficult.

Ok, half-second delay, shift my body right, max power, and I won’t crash right into Thunderlane. Swift made an audible gulp. I hope. 
 
Down went the flag, as his wings flapped upwards, the best position possible. Immediately, he raised his flank and curved his appendages like an inverted bowl. All those behind him moved laterally, while Thunderlane could feel an invisible force tugging him toward the agile stallion. Before he could unhinge his mouth in awe, Swift took off like a rocket, creating a shockwave that yanked a few hairs off his Mohawk.

“Gooooo!” he yelled, with his cheeks flapping in the wind.

Swift wriggled back and forth toward the line, wrestling for control as he approached a vulture at too fast a rate. He commanded a trajectory above the bird, but his body failed to respond.

“No, no, nooooo!”
 
In desperation, he released the yoke, allowing the unbalanced wing power to carry him left. Right at the line, he was beside the ostrich, so he pulled the controls hard starboard. Swift went that direction, but at an agonizing pace that put him on a collision course with the upcoming cloud hoop. Easing off the throttles would save him, but extinguish all his momentum, and with the harriers getting a good start, he couldn’t afford it.

“Turn! Turn!”

Finally, the last of the boost effects disappeared, giving him full control again. His hooves touched the hoop’s edge, but he pushed off from them, as two grasshoppers moved in his path for a squeeze. Instead, they watched in awe as the stallion spun up and above their heads with ease. Now at full speed, Swift swung back to the middle of the racing line as he came up to the first turn where three competitors were scrapping for position. Before they knew it, a silver bullet whizzed past them, with its trajectory heading directly at the seagulls. The flock had lined up, and were chasing after the two harriers, who were one length away, but because of their top speed advantage over their pursuers, the harriers would eventually increase the gap. The gulls would lose them and so would Swift.

“Almost… there!” he said to himself.

At the turn’s middle, his speed increased even more, thanks to the seagull’s draft. With a well-executed slingshot, he thought, Swift could clear them birds with ease, assuming they wouldn’t give him trouble. Nearing the Turn Two exit, he swung outside for the pass, and right away, two of them went for a block, screeching with a devious smirk. Swift went up, but his foes did the same, with one tapping his brakes right in front of him. The stallion had none of that, going sideways to avoid the gull, and then banking left to go around the other. Another two seagulls moved to opposite ends of the track, leaving a convenient, but deliberate gap for the stallion to bite on. Once he went for it, they slammed the opening shut, only to smash into each other, as Swift rolled away from the dual attack.

One more seagull! I got this!  
 
He went right at the bird, confident that he could slip by, and reach his goal. This time, Swift went down, diagonal left, and then right, as he went into the tunnel. His foe demonstrated his supremacy over the other gulls by mirroring the stallion’s moves with pinpoint precision, but only until Swift forced the bird into barrel rolls. An opening presented itself under and right to his competitor, so he went for it at full speed. The seagull reached for him with his webbed feet, but Swift anticipated the move, so he prepared to do a simple roll out of the way. The moment he tried, his left wing cramped up, rendering him immobile.

“Ah!”

With a cackle, the bird snatched his tail, and swung him backwards, sending the stallion’s misty world spinning. Right away, his mind shifted into overdrive, working every control in his disposal for all of three seconds, before he stopped the rotation, and then turned away from the tunnel walls. While his speedometer was still pointing at the high end, he was now at the edge of the seagulls’ draft, while the harriers were pulling further away.

“Seagulls,” he muttered, adding a snort at the end. “Why me?”

Swift accelerated for another run, as he left the tunnel, and became visible to his friends watching from the grandstands. They were not witness to his problems, only that he had passed six competitors since the restart, a reason to cheer.

“He’s finally making progress!” said Twilight.

“And lookie there,” added Applejack, watching Thunderlane, Lionheart and company go around the grasshoppers. “They’re haulin’ the mail too!”

Blaze had his binoculars focused at the first turn, where he waited for the leaders to fly by. The order was the same it had been all day, although Rainbow had her team within reach. “Hmm, something appears off, but I’m not certain why.” He rubbed his forehead, removing beads of sweat. “Maybe it’s just the heat making me see things.”

When the field passed by a second time, Scootaloo was the first to notice it.

“Why is Rainbow slower now?” she said.

Blaze turned to the filly. “Are you seeing that as well?”

She gave the falcon a nod. If there was one thing Scootaloo knew well, it was her idol’s capabilities.

“If that’s the case, then her group should be falling behind…” he placed his claw on his chin “…but they’re not.” The falcon then noticed the geese had trouble keeping up with their allies, which made them slower. “What’s going on here? Are they—”

“Yahhhhh!” Fluttershy yelped, before scrambling under her seat.

Below, Swift had made another go to get past the seagulls, and this time, his friends watched in horror as the lead bird whacked him with his wing. The stallion staggered up and forwards, apparently with no pilot in the cockpit, making him open to a kick from another bird. He swerved toward the outside wall, but right before hitting it at speed, he rumbled to life, and turned away just in time to avoid disaster.

“You meanie bird,” Pinkie puffed, scaring the daylights out of anyone not used to her loud outbursts.

“Is he okay?” Fluttershy stammered. “Please tell me he’s okay.”

Twilight waited until Swift had crossed the start-finish line at full speed. “I’m not sure. He’s still going, but for some reason, he’s having trouble passing those seagulls.”

It became more apparent the next lap when Swift made a third attempt right in front of his friends. He zigged, zagged, and rolled around the racetrack, as they knew he could, only to his movements to be those of a massive blimp. The seagulls took full advantage by bumping, swatting, and flipping him between one another like a pinball inside a machine. Finally, they ejected the listless pony through the rear, but somehow, he immediately went at them again. Unfortunately, they could see the cycle repeating as the racers disappeared around the Cloudiseum.

Applejack tilted her hat down, “Boy, howdy. That was hard to watch. He’s really getting walloped out there.”

“He should just fight back!” said Applebloom, swinging her hooves like a karate master.

Rarity shook her head, “He had enough trouble fending off pillows. Besides, Swift doesn’t strike me as somepony that would resort to that. As a lady, I can understand that, but even I have my limits.”

Blaze put his claw over his face. The falcon wished he could pull his friend aside for a discussion about the training he gave him, or how there are times when the situation warrants some type of offensive. Then again, he had similar conversations with him back in Junior Speedsters, but encountered a wall every single time. Back then, he would feel somewhat disappointed and worried that his friend would be woefully unprepared, but when he spotted his friend taking another beating exiting the tunnel, he clutched his claw and slammed it onto the bleacher. He stood up and inhaled every molecule of air around him. Blaze wasn’t putting up with this sorry display any longer, and no matter the ambient noise, he was going to tell him off.

“Defend yourself!”

Not only did he shock the ponies around him, Swift’s ears twitched, as it picked up a faint, but familiar sound.

Is that you, Blaze?  

There was no time to think, as two gulls went after him. He spun above the first, but with a muscle throb, his mobility failed him, earning him a thwack from the other foe’s wing. He tumbled in mid-air, while his cockpit billowed smoke, and flashed red alarms. If the gulls weren’t one of the weakest competitors in the race, he would’ve been knocked out cold, but even so, Swift hadn’t experienced anything like this before in his life. Confronting bullies was something he tried avoiding, but when there was no other option, he always had the upper hoof, as they only hurt themselves in the end. Today was a different story, however, as he stopped his violent rotation, and watched as his attackers high-fived each other, while cackling like hyenas. Ahead, the harriers trailed a larger pack, still not out of reach, but his time was almost up.

“I need…” Swift panted, “… to go… now! I promised… Rainbow I’d have her back… and I meant it!” His eyes twitched, as a spark ignited a fire within. “But these seagulls… they don’t want to race me fair! They just want to push me around! I don’t want to be pushed around!” The flames burnt the last of his patience to a crisp, releasing a surge of energy that rippled through his body, and made him tremble like a volcano ready to explode nature’s boiling fury into the open world.

“Stop… pushing me… around!”

The last outburst caught the gulls’ attention, but they dismissed it with more pronounced laughing. With a grunt, he ignored the pain, and went full throttle through the second turn, and into the tunnel, where the mist turned into steam the moment it touched his scorching coat. Approaching the exit, the first seagull swung for a strike, but missed, as did the second, who dove in with his feet. His left wing suddenly lost power, leaving him open to attack from the third bird, who went in shoulder-first. There was no chance for a dodge, but that never crossed his mind. In fact, he glared at would-be attacker, and pointed his crosshairs dead center.

“Knock it—” He leaned back “Offffff!”

Swift banged right onto the bird’s ribcage, flipping the bird upside down and backwards. His closest companion dove at him for a whack, but with his other shoulder, Swift struck him on the gut, the air pushing the seagull away, while he gasped for breath. That left the stallion with one last opponent blocking his way, who chose to attack with a powerful corkscrew motion. He could not evade, nor did he have the strength to go against it head on. His confidence abandoned ship, knowing that in moments, it would all be over.

Three seconds.

Out of nowhere, a voice spoke to him, but it wasn’t someone from the outside world, nor was it quite from within. In fact, it was his own cutie mark, obscured by the racing sticker, but ever present. However, it was only one part of his mark, the inverted bolt superimposing a cloud, reaching out to him, its words muffled out by the noisy atmosphere. However, the meaning came in crystal clear, and despite a nagging feeling that he had gone through this before, Swift chose to trust this presence, and follow its instructions. Shutting his eyes, he drifted upwards, while holding his right wing at its highest point.

Two seconds.

Then, an unknown swirling sensation intensified exponentially around his grey, lightweight feathers. Swift asked this unintelligible voice if he was doing it right. The answer caught him by surprise; not quite, but close enough. With all his might, Swift pushed down on his wing, unleashing a tall, narrow aerial wall, which emitted a sound that resembled a freight train.

One second.

The seagull’s mouth opened wide as the wind attack hit his face with a prolonged pop, the impact striking him with such force that he gyrated forward like a rolling wheel. Jamming the throttles on full, Swift blasted his staggered opponent, while the remaining birds gave pursuit. For those that witnessed the events unfold, they cheered for the slender stallion, or in the case of one observer, dropped his binoculars. Twilight would’ve saved them from hitting the white floor, except the gears in her mind jammed.

“How in Equestria?” She rubbed her eyes. “What… did anyone else see that?”

“If that was a mirage,” Rarity patted off her sweat with a decorative washcloth “, it was quite convincing.”

Pinkie pulled the two unicorns together, “That was no whatchamacallit! That really did happen, but I didn’t know Fly-Fly could even do that! Wasn’t that cool?”

The Crusaders sure thought so, as they shouted every synonym for awesome.

“Well, looks like even that didn’t carry much of a punch,” said Applejack, pointing at the seagull that had taken the hit. He had trouble flying straight, but was already catching up to his fellow birds. “Has he done something like this before, Blaze?”

Blaze remained standing for a moment. Part of him was still recovering from the initial shock, but he was also going into his past when he was at Junior Speedster Camp. In his recreation of his memories, he saw Swift, younger but not much smaller than the present, standing outside by the Camp entrance when a taller, majestic pony, with a flowing mane and twin tails arrived. Without exchanging words, she embraced him tight like a teddy bear, although based on the stallion’s wriggling, he wasn’t exactly enjoying himself.

“Actually…” Blaze scratched his head. “…not exactly. You see, a long time ago, I met Fly’s mother, Gale, when she paid him a visit at Camp. When I inquired about her cutie mark, she was gracious enough to tell me how she acquired it, and she even gave me a small demonstration of her abilities. In essence, she was able to manipulate the air around her in methods that are beyond the capabilities of every flier I’ve ever met in my life. The precision, the power, even the knowledge, it’s quite a talent.” After a sigh, he continued. “I’ll admit that I’m no expert on ponies in general, but since Fly is her son, is it possible that he is capable of the same skills as his mother?”

“Not all the time,” Rarity replied, “but in some cases, the child can share the same unique talents as their parents, even if their cutie marks are completely unrelated.”

“Except the parent will always be better at that talent,” added Twilight. “For example, I know the same gem-seeking spell as Rarity, but even then, I’m just an amateur at finding them.” Her eyes focused on the lizard leading the race. “Hmm, come to think of it, Gecks has that same talent too, doesn’t he?”

Blaze got up from his seat. “Yes. I failed to make that connection until now. I believe that lizard’s unique wings make such abilities possible.” His eyes narrowed. “However, I don’t recall him being this proficient at it back in Camp. With the passage of time, I’m curious if—”

Like an alarm clock, Pinkie trembled in front of him, touched her muzzle, stuck out her tongue, and finally spun around in mid-air, defying physics for three seconds before falling on her back. The usually charismatic pony was now chattering her teeth, her pupils in full retreat. “Oh, this is bad, bad, baddddd!”

The falcon stepped back, as Twilight helped her friend up.

“What’s bad?” she said, sharing the same frightened look. “What’s going to happen? When? Where? How?”

“I’m not sure, but there’s big, BIG trouble coming!”

Fluttershy let out a long eek. “Trouble? I’m staying down here!”

Chicane’s urgent voice startled the group, “This is incredible! Hermes Goossens is making a move of his own! I think they saw the lap counter and decided it’s go time!”

Moments later, coming out of the tunnel, a shocking sight emerged. All the geese had gone on the attack, except it wasn’t against Rainbow and her squadron.

“This is totally bogus!” Gilda screeched, whacking away one of the birds. “You’re supposed to be helping us!”

Goossens ripped a shrill laugh. “Oh, but you forget the saying, keep your friends close, and keep your enemies…” He charged after the lizard. “…closer!”

Gecks struck him with his hind legs, keeping the goose at bay. “But you forget that you shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds, especially when that hand’s…” He started a roll. “…strong!” He chopped Goossens on his back, making him wobble.

A length behind, Rainbow had trouble keeping her stiff jaw up. “What… what’s going on?”

“An ally has turned to a foe,” Wolfmacher replied with a cocky grin. “Actually, geese are never allies! They’re just thorns on our coats!”

“Who cares what’s going on?” McPecks interrupted, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “The lead’s for the taking! Chargggge!”

Before Rainbow could scream wait, the pelicans accelerated right into the mix, with the wolves following behind, howling with joy. She couldn’t blame them, for her instincts told her that the race was heating up. There was only one thing holding her back, and when she tried making her body slippery for extra speed, she got the reminder.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow!” she cried, her spine throbbing in agony.

She was used to working through pain, but even this was too much to overcome, so Rainbow resumed to a lesser aerodynamic profile. She became a spectator to what became an aerial ballet at the front, but all the weaving and bobbing gave her a light of hope, as their relative speed dropped at every turn. The problem was that everyone behind her noticed the same thing, and it triggered a ravenous hunger for victory that kicked gears into overdrive. One by one, racers went past Rainbow, nudging each other for room even though they had been on friendly terms not even a minute ago. In fact, other than the leading lizard, just about everyone ahead rubbed, shoved, and shouted at each other, as the constant contact littered the air with feathers of every color. At the scoreboard, its operators fought a futile battle to update the patrons of the top twenty or so positions. The first numbers that they left untouched was twenty one and seven, belonging to Spitfire and Soarin, followed by the Harriers’ forty-nine and ninety, and then thirty seven, with that number’s owner struggling for speed.

“So…,” Swift panted, “…tired!”

While his wings picked up the draft from the harriers, his momentum had stalled. A head turn verified that the seagulls were two cloud hoops behind and falling, while his team would be on their tails within five to ten laps. Facing forwards again, the birds that he was pursuing had gone around the two Wonderbolts on the inside, and then made a beeline toward what appeared to be a swarm.

“Shoot! Can’t… lose them!”

More power, he pleaded, but only his right wing responded. Already, he could hear Lionheart’s warning echo within his mind, but a more urgent instinct told him he had to hurry, and it wasn’t because there was about fifty laps left in the race. Whatever the sensation was, it made him forget that his body was overheating, aching all over, and running low on gas. It took all but a lap to reach the tail of his distant relative.

“Cousin Swiffy!” said Soarin, waving with a goofy grin.

Swift had to collect his breath, so he could speak loud enough. “’Sup...” That was all he could manage.

“Looks like you really had to work your way up here!” remarked Spitfire, looking over Swift’s coat, covered with grime, gashes, and gunk.

“You could…” He stuck out his tongue, so he could ingest some mist. “…say that!”

Soarin had a light bulb turn on. “Hey! How about you fly with us for a while, and get a breather?”

“I… can’t!” He pointed at a cyan dot near the back of the large group. “Rainbow… I… have to… catch—”

Spitfire saluted the stallion, “Understood! You have a teammate to look after, just like I have to babysit a certain pony who can’t fly too fast, because he had too many sweets before the race!”

“But I was really hungry!” Soarin moaned.

The mare slapped her face. “Listen, Swift! If you want to join up with your friend, you should go now!” At the flip of a switch, her tone shifted to a harsh instructor. “And I mean nowwwwwww!”

Swift gassed it right by the Wonderbolts, somewhat shaken that what he thought was a friendly leader was now barking orders.

“Flap those wings! Straighten up! Let me see that sweat! I’ve seen bumblebees fly faster than that! You’re not breaking any records with that performance!”

Once Swift had pulled away, Soarin gave her fellow teammate a tap. “Whoa, now! What was that about?”

She winked at him, while returning her voice to normal, “Oh, just part of something big that I’m working on! What do you think, Soarin?”

Words such as scary, overbearing, and unfitting floated around Soarin’s head, but he tossed them aside. “It… works, I guess!” he said with an uneasy grin. “My cousin sure got going, didn’t he?”

There was some truth in that, as by the next lap, Swift could sense the large group’s draft relieving some of the stress on his wings, which begged him to ease off the throttle. He couldn’t, however, not when Rainbow Dash was within reach, and certainly not when he could taste imminent danger in the air. He wished she would see him coming, but she was too busy looking for a way forward, while fighting off the harriers, who without provocation, nudged her aside.

“Hey!”

She returned the favor, squeezing one of them into a female hawk, who drifted sideways in a way that made Chicane jump off of his seat.

“Oh, she’s sliding through the turn! Can she save it?”

The hawk swerved for control, but ended up bouncing off a pelican. Somehow, the collision straightened her path, just as three geese at the front went after Gilda in second place. With a throaty roar, she whacked one assailant, but the other two scored a direct hit, staggering her into an unpredictable zigzag that caught everyone behind off guard. Competitors bumped into each other in panic, as they tried avoiding the griffon.

“Wiggle, bump, yes! Chicane announced, clutching his chest. “They straighten back up! Sweet, Celestia, they’re still racing!”

Gilda got back in the pack, although from the spectator’s view, it was one lizard followed by a disorganized flock totaling more than twenty. Room became a precious commodity, as even mere inches in any direction meant touching wingtip with someone else. Cloud hoop through cloud hoop they went, using all three dimensions in between them to make a pass. Some attempts failed, other succeeded, but each one made the volume of the crowd rise, while their hearts leapt every time a competitor was on the edge of control. Chicane had no chance in describing every maneuver, but he attempted to anyway, not even pausing for a much-needed drink. Lap after lap, the competitors demonstrated a combined level of flying prowess that had never been seen before in Equestria, or in any other nation. It was the closest thing to controlled chaos, but one single spark could set it all off, and at the head of the pack, Gecks had the match.

Yes, yes! This is perfect! His fangs dripped acid, as his eye slits remained in the open position. All my rivals are together in a nice, little package! Must they make it this easy for me?   

At the first turn, an eagle went for the lead, but Gecks pushed him away with ease.

I dare not do this in plain sight. No. I don’t want them to see it coming. Gecks could hardly contain his devious smile. Yes, no one will see it coming! 

As he entered the tunnel, Gecks gave both his delta wings a wriggle. They were his ace in the hole, his most beloved gift, his weapon of choice. Every challenge that involved flying, he wanted nothing other than being the top of the pyramid, and he didn’t care how he got there. Gecks had been waiting for a day like today, where everyone would know his greatness, and no griffon, goose, flying wolf, pegasus, hawk, eagle, or any other creature was going to deny him that honor. Confident he was, that he could defeat anyone without using dirty tactics, but he was never one to take chances, especially when this window of opportunity was like a plumb rat on a silver platter. With one action, he could rid himself of all his threats, including a slender pony that was at the verge of catching up to the pack, the same one that bested him in Junior Speedsters, the one he wanted to go down the most. His defeat would be the cherry on the top on his victory sundae, and he couldn’t wait any longer to swallow it whole.

When he reached the tunnel’s midpoint, the flying lizard hit the afterburners, giving him an extra boost that increased his lead to the point that no one could interfere with his plans. His wings began fluttering at a rate that made a deafening, roaring sound. Air oscillated under them, which made the lizard’s body go into violent convulsions, but he kept his forward momentum, and waited until he was nearly back into the open world. Gecks readied himself for a spin, keeping one eye on the approaching field, as he opened his mouth for the phrase he’d been waiting to say, the bow on top of the present he bought for himself.

“Ssssayonara, suckers!”