Fire & Rain

by Ruirik


Catch-22

Quick Snap stared into the teacup clasped firmly in his hooves, his eyes focused on his reflection in the amber liquid. The warmth had long since left the ceramic vessel, dissipating in the gentle breeze. Quick couldn’t recall the precise time when Red Top had excused himself from the table. He was reasonably sure it had been around the time his tea was still hot. With a sigh, the dejected pegasus set the cup down on the table, his thirst long forgotten.

Sitting to the left of his drink was his favorite camera, an old thirty-five millimeter his grandfather had given him when Quick was a colt. The luster had long since faded from the textured metal body which was scored with countless little scrapes, scratches, and dings. The rewind lever had fallen off years ago and the flash bulb had burned out…well, Quick couldn’t remember exactly when. Still, Quick loved that ugly, old, and functionally questionable camera.

Sure it wasn’t as nice as some of the more modern cameras that Quick had access to, but none of those reminded him of his Grandpa. None of those cameras seemed to capture the colors of a moment so richly. None of those cameras had any character to their shots.

A small frown pulled at the corners of Quick’s mouth. He reached out with his left hoof to stroke the cool metal body. The camera was quintessential to some of his earliest and most cherished memories. The pictures he had taken with it had gotten him his first job, paid for his first apartment, and introduced him to his wife.

It had been that old camera, wielded for the last time by his grandfather, which had photographed his wedding day. Only a few short years later it took the first photos of his newborn daughter. Two years after that, it had photographed her baby brother.

In due time, Quick would use it to take pictures of his children’s weddings. He looked forward to photographing their foals when they arrived. And when the time came, he looked forward to sitting his grandchild on his lap, supporting the heavy old camera in their little hooves, and helping them take their first photographs, just like his grandfather had done with him so many years before.

A meager smile supplanted Quick’s frown as he recalled those fond memories. All those precious moments had passed through the lens of his camera. The photos it took held everything from the dreams of a budding young couple to the limitless potential of a newborn foal. So many priceless little moments frozen in time to be shared and cherished.

Then the paper he had been working for had assigned him to cover the wedding of Princess Cadence and Captain Shining Armor in Canterlot. It had been the opportunity of a lifetime for Quick, a chance to get his work seen by ponies in high society. He had been ecstatic about the offer and accepted the assignment in a Manehattan minute.

When Quick arrived in Canterlot, he had set to work the instant that the press ponies were allowed to begin. In his zeal he went—perhaps—a bit overboard in his duties. Quick photographed everything he was allowed to point his camera at: everything from the Royal Guard in their parade uniforms to floral arrangements wrapped in gossamer ribbons and ornately sculptured shrubberiesHe even photographed the oversized pastries that gave him a toothache just to look at. The interplay of edges and textures, the diffusion of the afternoon’s light through the humid summer air, and the constantly changing palette of colors as the cool mornings gave way to the warm evenings. Then, amid the golden glow of countless candles, Quick had still more little moments to capture. Innumerable little stories he could tell in a single image. It was a photographer’s dream.

Then the inevitable wedding day had arrived. Quick had woken up early that morning to get the best spot in the press gallery for the day’s events. With the exception of the event’s official photographer, the press had been barred from covering the actual ceremony. The gallery Quick had been waiting in since the early morning was situated just outside where the newlywed would present themselves to the citizens of Canterlot.

That was when everything had gone wrong.

Quick had been enjoying a spirited discussion with another photographer about various darkroom techniques when a blast of magical energy from inside the cathedral startled them all. Before they knew what was happening, the barrier around Canterlot shattered and a horde of changelings poured into the city. In the ensuing chaos, Quick had tried to flee, only to be tackled to the ground by several changelings.

A shiver ran through Quick’s body and he bit down on his lower lip as his wings wrapped tight around his core. The panic had sent him into a severe asthma attack that left him hospitalized for days after the changelings had been repelled. He had missed the entire wedding along with all the pomp and circumstance surrounding it. Work became harder and harder to come by for a long time after that. Quick’s limited savings had been dwindling with disturbing alacrity with the day-to-day expenses of life.

That was when he had run into Red Top outside of Manehattan General Hospital, and the moment he had been offered a chance to work again. All he had to do in exchange was get a few simple photographs of Vinyl Scratch. What he didn’t know, what nopony knew, had been Vinyl’s condition.

The memory of what he found in that empty room still haunted Quick. He could still smell the antiseptics, dried blood, and gauze. Quick sucked in a sharp breath through his mouth as a brief bout of vertigo made him waver in his seat.

Still, after all that, Red Top had kept true to his word. When Quick had delivered the pictures, Red had paid him a very handsome sum and even got him in touch with a studio he could work for. Even with a more-or-less reliable income, Quick couldn’t remember feeling more vulnerable in his life.

He was a pegasus, born and raised in Cloudsdale. Like every pegasus, he loved the Wonderbolts. Like many young colts, he had even once entertained dreams of wearing that iconic blue and gold uniform while performing death defying tricks to the adulations of an adoring crowd. Now, as a grown stallion who’s flying ability was mediocre at best, it seemed it was his role to attack the very thing he idolized. Quick scoffed at the irony of it all.

His gaze shifted to the innocuous paper slip Red had left him with that contained the address of the Wonderbolt’s hotel. Quick frowned, wanting nothing more than to crush the paper underhoof, throw it away, and go back home without a second thought. But if he did that, what would Red Top do? Would he really make good on his threat of exposing Quick’s identity? If that happened, would Quick be fired from his job? Arrested? At the very least, he’d gain the mistrust of every pony in Equestria.

With a weary sigh, Quick took the paper and read over the address again. There didn’t seem to be any other choice. He slipped his beloved camera into his saddlebag and tossed a couple bits onto the table for a tip. After taking one last drink from his cup, he gazed up to the sky to get an idea of the time. Estimating it to be roughly eleven o’clock, he stretched his wings. Even for him, it was only a short flight from the cafe. If he was lucky, he’d see a whole lot of nothing and he could at least tell Red that he tried.

With a jump, Quick took to the skies, his wings carrying him over the crowded streets. Getting above the rooftops, he bypassed several city blocks in a few minute’s time. Spotting the hotel easily enough, he came to a landing across the street from the pavillion where there was a bench he could relax on while not looking too conspicuous.

Quick Snap set his saddlebags beside him and fished his inhaler out, taking a puff from it as he settled in. To his great surprise, he didn’t have to wait very long before two pegasi trotted out of the lobby. Quick recognized them instantly: Soarin’ and Rapidfire.

For the briefest of moments, his inner fancolt took over. It took everything Quick Snap had not to run over and beg for an autograph. As much as he would have loved to get a genuine Wonderbolt’s autograph, he lacked both a marker and anything to write on. The fact that it would also expose him as a photographer didn’t particularly help matters. Quick sighed, taking a moment to rub his eyes with his foreleg. He didn’t have the best view, but it didn’t take much to see something wasn’t right with one of the two Wonderbolts.

Firstly, they were walking. A healthy pegasus would only ever walk from place to place when they were accompanied by an earth pony or a unicorn. It was simply impolite to fly around a flightless partner. Secondly, Rapidfire didn’t look well. It was in the way he carried himself down the street with his head down a pained look on his face.

Quick Snap’s lips pulled into a pained frowned as his ears folded back. He didn’t want to do this; he didn’t want to be the pony that vindicated Red Top’s information. He didn’t want to be the pony that killed the careers of his idols in order to live. But if he didn’t… Quick didn’t have the courage to find out what could happen. A soft whimper escaped his throat as he reached into his saddlebag and pulled out his camera. Without a working flash bulb in his camera, the only way Soarin’ or Rapidfire would notice him was if he made himself obvious.

He waited until he was sure neither Soarin’ or Rapidfire were looking in his direction before he lifted the camera to his face. After taking a moment to adjust his view, Quick centered the two unsuspecting pegasi in the frame and snapped his first picture. His grandfather’s camera clicked once as the shutter snapped open and shut. Soarin’ and Rapidfire kept walking, completely oblivious to Quick’s work.

He remained still for several moments after taking the picture, his right eye watching them from the viewfinder. His lips were pressed into a tight line and his eyebrows knitted together in self-disgust. Slowly he lowered the camera from his sight, the old metal feeling heavy in his hooves.

Quick shook his head as his gaze turned down to the old camera. What would his grandpa think of him now? Quick scoffed: the old stallion would have been heartbroken to see how far Quick had fallen in life. Quick sighed again as he retrieved the camera’s neck strap from his back and attached it to the metal frame. Once the camera was secured around his neck he trotted in the direction that the Wonderbolts had gone.

They hadn’t gotten too far since Quick had taken the picture, and two pegasi walking the streets of Manehattan were easy enough to spot. Quick stayed far enough behind them that he could remain unnoticed while keeping them in sight. He chewed anxiously on his lower lip to quell an anxious shiver that was spreading through his body.

After walking for a while, the Wonderbolts came to a stop in front of Zeke’s diner. Quick hesitated for a moment before he crossed over to the opposite side of the street. He would have a better angle from there and be less noticeable if they spotted him fiddling with a camera around all the street vendors. If that happened, he could always pretend to be a tourist.

Quick found a good spot under the shade of a small tree. From his position he had a clear view of Rapidfire, who was standing outside of the diner with a miserable look on his face. Quick wasn’t sure where Soarin’ had gone until the Wonderbolt in question emerged from the diner, a confused look on his face. The confusion evaporated as Spitfire and a sky-blue mare with a rainbow mane and tail trotted over to him and Rapid.

Quick arched an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. He lifted his camera to his face and snapped a set of pictures just as Soarin’s wing pulled Rapidfire into a light hug. Quick recoiled slightly, surprised by the gesture more than anything. He had heard the rumors about Soarin’s preferences, but he never would have thought it would have been with Spitfire’s brother.

With a shrug, Quick Snap lined up another photograph, this time trying to get a better look at the mare with the rainbow mane. He knew the Wonderbolt’s active roster like he knew the back of his hoof. He did not know who that mare was, which made him curious if she was a new recruit. Anypony that spent one-on-one time with Captain Spitfire had to be an impressive flyer.

He took a few photos of the unknown mare, frowning as he couldn’t get a shot of her face from his angle. The four pegasi talked for a moment before the blue mare pointed her hoof across the street at one of the street vendors. Quick followed the gesture to where he noticed a unicorn selling snow cones. Quick’s mouth watered. He quite liked snow cones.

Shaking his head to clear the distraction from his thoughts, he focused back on the three Wonderbolts and the unknown mare. To his shock, he saw Rapidfire pull a folded Wonderbolt uniform from his saddlebag, which he unceremoniously hoofed over to Spitfire. Quick reacted on instinct, instantly snapping multiple photos of the exchange until the blue and gold uniform was hidden away in Spitfire’s saddlebag.

Quick’s inner fancolt wanted nothing more than to beg Rapidfire not to turn in his uniform and quit the team. On the other hoof, Soarin’ was the team’s lieutenant. Having an affair with a subordinate was probably very bad for team cohesion. There had also been longstanding rumors of favoritism when it came to Rapidfire’s career.

He groaned and shook his head, his right hoof pressing against the bridge of his nose. If he lived for a thousand years, Quick would never understand why some ponies were so put out by the idea of same-sex couples. Love was supposed to be love, right? Did it matter if the pony happened to have the same equipment downstairs?

Quick shook his head again to dislodge the errant thoughts from his mind. Just as he refocused his attention on the diner, he watched as the four pegasi disappeared inside. Quick blinked several times as he processed his situation. Eventually a grin spread over his face as a realization hit him: he now had time to get a snow cone.

Suppressing a happy squeal, if for no other reason than he didn’t feel like being stared at by everypony on the street, Quick trotted over to the snow cone vendor. A few minutes later and a few bits poorer, Quick relaxed on one of the grassy knolls overlooking the street. From there he could keep an eye on the diner and look like a normal pony enjoying his summertime treat. At least for a few minutes, he could forget his troubles and enjoy the day.

All too soon, Spitfire, Soarin’, Rapidfire, and the rainbow-headed mare emerged from the diner. Quick zoomed in on them with his camera, snapping a clearer picture of their faces, including the unknown mare’s. Spitfire, Soarin’, and the rainbow mare seemed to be engaged in an amusing story, while Rapidfire looked noticeably uncomfortable. Quick squeezed his eyes shut as he snapped another picture. He wished all four of them would just fly away so Red Top would no longer have a story to investigate, and by proxy, Quick wouldn’t have to take clandestine photographs.

After a brief conversation, the four pegasi parted ways. Spitfire and the rainbow mare trotted towards hightown while Soarin’ and Rapid headed in the opposite direction. Quick hesitated as he considered which pair to shadow. He only had a couple photos of Spitfire and the unknown mare, and no idea if Spitfire had the injury that had garnered Red Top’s interest. Still, Spitfire looked much healthier than her brother did.

Making his decision, Quick gathered his things and slipped his camera back around his neck before he trotted off after Soarin’ and Rapidfire, making a mental note to follow up on Spitfire tomorrow. For the time being at least, Rapidfire was the more interesting story.

Quick trailed Soarin’ and Rapidfire for a while, watching the two talk from a very safe distance. The pair came to a stop outside a small pharmacy, Soarin’ nudging Rapidfire inside. Quick Snap winced as he photographed the moment, memories of the Vinyl Scratch incident flashing before his eyes.

Quick looked down at the camera in his hooves for a long while. The cold, metal block felt like lead in his hooves. He looked up several minutes later when he spotted Soarin’ and Rapidfire emerge from the small establishment. They spoke for a few moments, oblivious to Quick’s presence.

Glancing back down at his camera, Quick stared at his reflection in the lens, his lips pulled into a deep frown. He couldn’t bring himself to lift the camera anymore. With a sigh, he removed the camera from around his neck and placed it carefully into his saddlebag before turning around and jumping into the skies with a grunt.

Quick made himself a promise as he flew home. After he had resolved his ‘debt’ to Red Top, he would never do that kind of work again. He couldn’t live with himself like this.